Everything I Knew Was Wrong, or The Long Road Home
by LaMomo
Summary: 1840. Edward Cullen has been living in Jamaica for years. Sudden news of his father's ailing health prompt his journey back to England. Can he still call Cullen Manor home? A long road home in more ways than one.
1. Chapter 1

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Title: Everything I Knew Was Wrong, or The Long Road Home

Penname: LaMomo

Banner: #25

Rating/ Disclaimer: Rated M just to err on the safe side. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: 1840. Edward Cullen has been living in Jamaica for years, managing his family's estate. Sudden news of his father's ailing health prompt his journey back to England. Can he still call Cullen Manor home? A long road home in more ways than one.

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_Jamaica, March 1840_

Every single muscle in my body was aching with fatigue. I had been on horseback since the break of dawn, riding through the Cullen estates. By noon, the sweltering heat and suffocating humidity of the West Indies were taking their toll on my strength, even if I had grown accustomed to this life and this climate.

The estate was an immense, lush and green expanse of sugar cane and tobacco fields located just outside Kingston. I'd been managing it for six years. Six long years since I'd all but left the beloved and familiar shores of Cornwall behind for Jamaica, wanting to prove to my family (and to myself) that I wasn't just the clever, bookish younger son, but that I could, indeed, be a fierce, ruthless and successful tradesman who would increase the family's wealth by managing, single-handedly, the whole of the Cullen estates in the colonies.

Nothing had shaken my resolve – not my mother's pleading, not my elder brother's light-hearted bantering that my going away was just a ruse to have the county's girls pining for me, and not even my father's stern entreaties that there was no need for me to go to the ends of the world to prove my worth to him.

That – proving my own worth – I had surely done, over the years. The plantation was well-managed and highly profitable, even if I said so myself, and the family wealth had increased steadily under my management. I had adjusted well enough to life in the West Indies, where I'd long ceased to lament the lack of polite and educated company. I had a place among the merchants of Jamaica, I was highly respected in the business community of Kingston, and naturally mingled with the most prominent families in town, when the occasion presented itself. I was content with my lot in life, and proud of my achievements. Most of all, I had come to appreciate my life of action and manual labour.

Every day, I rode through the plantation to survey the workers' progress. On each market day, I made the long ride between the estate and Kingston, and ventured out to the harbour each time a ship was sailing to or from Jamaica with Cullen goods.

I woke at dawn each day and retired for the night long after my servants had gone to bed, choosing to settle the accounts and other business after I'd taken a daily stock of my land and labourers. I prided myself in being a strict, but fair master.

By no means I had severed ties with Cornwall. My intent in moving to Jamaica was not to run away from my family. Instead, I sought to escape my allotted fate of being an awkward younger son unwilling to purchase an officer's commission in one of His Majesty's Regiments.

News from home came to me as often as distance and time permitted. The letters were scanty, and infrequent. I often received bundles of battered, rain-spattered envelopes that included missives from the three family members remaining in Cornwall – my father, mother and brother.

This time, though, as I jumped off my horse, drenched in sweat and covered in dust, I was met with a very impatient messenger who bore only a lone and ominous letter.

"Massa! Massa! Letter, home, letter! Espress, massa!" hollered Augustus, my house servant.

Augustus had been born and raised in Jamaica and had worked on the Cullen Plantation time out of mind. His superior knowledge of the other labourers, his eye for strict discipline and his sense of organisation had prompted me to entrust him with the running of my household. In short, Augustus was my butler and housekeeper, though his English was sometimes broken and, more often than not, tinged with the local inflections typical of the Caribbean.

Questions reeling in my head, I beckoned to Augustus to pass me the missive.

"Hand that over, Augustus, please."

"Yes, massa," he replied with a respectful bow.

I tore open the sheet of paper and quickly looked over the letter, to see who was writing to me urgent news from home and, most of all, when. It was penned in my brother's vibrant but messy hand and was dated from Cullen Manor four months hence – so much for its being an express delivery.

"_Dear Edward,_

_I wish to announce that I will shortly be marrying Miss Rosalie Hale._

_I hope you will wish us joy – though Father might advise otherwise._

_Your affectionate brother,_

_Emmett Nathaniel Cullen"_

By now, Emmett was a married man. However, save for this hasty message, I had received no such tidings from my father. Truth be told, I had not received any letters from home for quite some time, but I had attributed the lack of communication to the bad winter weather that made ocean travel difficult.

Emmett's message was just like him – abrupt and to the point, though somehow failing to paint a bigger picture. Emmett would throw a bucket of ice-cold water at you without warning, and without telling you why, leaving you wondering the where's and why's of his actions, just as he did now.

I was by no means shocked by the choice of his intended bride. In his earlier correspondence, Emmett had been quite forthcoming as to the charms of one Miss Rosalie Hale. There was no doubt in my mind that he was much taken with her and that the feeling was mutual. What left my head spinning with questions, though, as I stood under the merciless midday sun, was his rather unsubtle allegation that Father might not approve of the match.

Knowing my brother and father, I was more inclined to say that Emmett was being headstrong and selfish. And, while my father tended to be equally headstrong, it was typically not without good reason. My father was concerned with the welfare of the whole family and, while he would never cross Emmett's desires merely for the sake of it, his disapproval posed a serious threat to my brother's matrimonial happiness. I did not doubt, for even one moment, that Emmett would marry Miss Hale anyway, despite our father's wishes. I could only hope for the best, and that they would come to a happy resolution of their misunderstanding.

I had no details whatsoever on Miss Rosalie Hale, other than Emmett's highly appreciative descriptions of her beauty. My family's silence on the question seriously impaired my ability to form any sort of well-founded judgment. I concluded that I could wish my brother joy, so long as nothing else convinced me to the contrary.

For the rest of the day, I went about my daily occupations as usual, yet still the thought of my brother's letter left me uneasy, with a disturbing sense of foreboding. All through the night, I was unable to rest, and though exhausted, I tossed and turned, mulling over my own speculations.

The following morning, Augustus greeted me at the breakfast table with a silver tray and yet another letter. I raised an eyebrow, quite surprised to receive a second missive in as many days. My faithful servant sensed my silent question and commented, "Sea better, massa. More ships a' coming."

It was as good an explanation as any. This second letter was not an express – only Emmett, in his typical impulsiveness, would squander the money for an express on a letter that could be stuck aboard a ship for months – and was penned in a regular, elegant and ladylike script which was, to my even greater surprise, not my mother's hand.

I quickly broke the seal and perused the single sheet of paper to locate the date and identity of the sender. The letter was dated from Cullen Manor, two months after Emmett's letter, and was signed by one Miss Isabella Marie Swan. Unfamiliar with any relatives of ours by that name, I immediately started reading the letter, in the hope that it would reveal who this person might be and why she was writing to me from my father's home in Cornwall.

_Dear Mister Cullen,_

_We have never been introduced and I apologise in advance for taking the liberty of addressing you so freely._

_I am afraid that circumstances are forcing me to forgo some common rules of decorum and I am confident that, once you are acquainted with the matters now at hand, you will find it in your heart to forgive my boldness._

_Your father is gravely ill and the doctors fear of his ultimate recovery. Your dear mother is still shocked by the news and has urged me to write to you in her stead to beg you to return home immediately._

_I pray that this letter reaches you quickly, and wish you a safe and speedy journey back to Cornwall._

_Respectfully,_

_Isabella Marie Swan._

The letter crumpled in my fist and the china teacup I was holding in my left hand shattered to the floor, its shards scattering everywhere. Augustus, ever discrete and unflappable by nature, set about tidying up the floor without a word.

My father was ill. My father was gravely ill and had been ill in Cornwall two months hence. As the grim reality that was facing me sunk in, I knew what I had to do with the utmost clarity.

"Augustus?"

"Yes, Massa?"

"Prepare my trunk and secure my passage on the next ship that sails from Kingston. There should be one tomorrow. I am needed in England."

"Yes, Massa."

Augustus did my bidding without batting an eyelid and, as was his ingrained habit, he did not bother to comment on the circumstances that were forcing me away from Jamaica for a long while. My trunk was ready and passage booked for the next day by the time my dinner was served.

I left instructions with my steward so that he could attend to the ordinary business of the plantation, with strict recommendations that my lawyer in Kingston could deal with any pressing or delicate matters in my absence.

I had no social calls to pay, no leave to take of anyone in Kingston. A message to my lawyer giving him full power of attorney to act on my behalf was the last duty I performed, before retiring for the evening.

The following morning, one of my stable hands drove me to the harbour and, as I stepped down the carriage, I was met with the impressive sight of the _Artemis_. I was well acquainted with this ship – it had been regularly employed to transport Cullen goods to and from Jamaica over the years, and I knew its Captain and its crew very well. This was, perhaps, one of the reasons why the Captain had overlooked my hasty request for a passage, accommodating it without further question. The _Artemis_ was a fairly new, sleek and fast clipper. One of a kind, its captain and owner were extremely proud of having secured it as a merchant ship serving the busy ports of Jamaica. The clipper stood shiny and majestic at its anchor in Kingston harbour, its sails white clean and ready to billow in the ocean winds, every brass bolt polished to perfection.

There was a flurry of activity on the deck as the sailors hauled cargo on the ship and down its hold and I had to watch my steps everywhere, lest I ran into someone, something, or just slipped on the wet planking.

As I settled down in my cabin, I still felt growing anticipation and endless questions reeling in my head. A nagging feeling I could not dismiss sparked my suspicions that my brother's hasty marriage and my father's ailing health could not be wholly unconnected.

I was also quite put out that the distressing events prompting my return had been relayed to me by a complete stranger. This complete stranger was acting on my mother's behalf, and was confident enough that her plea would not go unheeded, either.

Why wasn't Emmett aware that my father was sick? Why had he not written to me, instead? Why wasn't he at home, managing my father's estate, as every dutiful elder son was expected to do?

I mulled all these questions over in my mind , in a fruitless attempt to fill the empty and boring days and nights of my passage across the Atlantic. I was used to a life of action and was not well suited to the forced idleness of a passenger. Inactivity tended to fuel my brooding nature, making my manners hasty and my temper changeable. I envied the sailors their long days filled with labour. I envied the regularity of their chores. I had left my own, well-oiled routine behind, without any hint as to what I should expect, once I returned to Cornwall.

By the end of the crossing, my temper was simply volatile, rendered almost unfit for polite company by the long weeks of idle confinement aboard ship and by the unknown prospects at home. Any novelty was welcome by now, so that I could retrieve at least part of my sanity.

In his unflinching practicality, Augustus had bargained for a convenient passage to Bristol, considerably shortening the last leg of my journey.

After long weeks at sea, I had become accustomed to the pitching and tossing of the ship and found, soon enough, that dry land apparently no longer agreed with me. I simply desired some rest, a glass of my father's brandy, and a hearty conversation with my mother by the library fireplace at Cullen Manor, but my wishes had to wait.

Bristol was a busy port, bustling with people and goods being hauled to and from the majestic ships that sailed from and to the West Indies. It wasn't difficult to get directions to the stagecoach inn, where I rested for a spell and sipped my first pint of brown ale in six years, while I awaited the mail coach that would take me to Plymouth.

The journey in the mail coach proved to be another challenge for my ever-darkening mood. A skilled and reckless horseman, I wasn't partial to being jostled in a carriage, especially when already bone-weary from sleeping in a berth for six weeks, and travelling at a pace that could not rival my tamest canter. When all was said and done, I was not inclined in the least to engage in the usual, nonsensical and nosy conversation that my fellow travellers were entertaining.

To make matters worse, my dishevelled appearance and faint tan gave away that I had been overseas. I tried to avoid the most prying questions but, when the inevitable curate in the carriage began preaching about the inhumane living conditions in the Colonies, I feigned asleep to avoid a most disagreeable confrontation. Before long, true fatigue overcame me, and I drifted off to a fitful sleep, waking to find that the coach had finally reached Plymouth.

I had had enough of the so-called modern means of transportation. Needing to stretch my legs and be independent again, I quickly located a stable and purchased a horse. If I had to extend my stay in Cornwall, the animal would be a necessity anyway. I paid the owner, who beckoned for a stable boy to help me with my small trunk and saddle bags.

I set off at an easy canter at first, acquainting myself with my new mount, and revelling in the now familiar sights and sounds of home. As the whitewashed waterfront houses of Plymouth disappeared behind me, melting into the green and purple moors I loved so much, I finally gave in and spurred my horse into a wild gallop.

I knew I'd arrive at Cullen Manor late, but I couldn't bring myself to care. At this point, all I wanted was to see my parents again. All I longed for was the comfort of the loving home I'd missed for six long years. All my mind craved were answers.

My gallop grew more impatient the closer I got to Falmouth. At long last, I slowed the horse to an easy canter when I turned off the main road and onto the long and winding gravel pathway that led to Cullen Manor.

It was late at night, much too late for anyone to be wandering about the country, and I had not encountered any other travellers on the country roads. At last, I dismounted my horse at the gate of Cullen Manor. Despite my late and unannounced arrival, I half-expected someone to come out, greet me and lead my mount to the stables. But no one came, and the house remained dark, looming over me in an almost eerie silence. It was my childhood home, and yet it wasn't.

I was troubled by a sense of foreboding that was not easily dismissed. I sighed and breathed in the cool night air, willing it to calm my nerves. Still knowing my way around the estate even in the darkness, I walked to the stables, tied my horse in one of the empty stalls and unlatched my saddle bags. I went back to the front and finally knocked on the door of my father's house.

I heard some rustling inside and a crooked figure opened the door. I recognised the old butler at once, Jonathan Jenks, who had known me since I was a rumpled, unruly child who used to ruin his carefully crafted flowerbeds.

"Jenks, I'm home," I said, moving past him to make my way inside, and not waiting for him to recover from his shock and address me.

"Master Edward, is that really you?" he asked shakily, closing the door behind him. It was only then that I noticed his eyes were glazed over with unshed tears.

"Take me to my father, Jenks." Jenks did not move and averted his eyes from my scrutiny. I was growing impatient and increasingly worried.

"Jenks, how is he? You will tell me, now," I inquired imperiously, my tone perfected from years of disciplining the plantation labourers.

Jenks merely shook his head, still not even meeting my gaze. "Master Edward, please come with me. Miss Isabella will tell you all you need to know."

Miss Isabella – that name again. Could it be that my unknown correspondent was here, living in my parents' house? Had I detected a hint of reverence in the way that Jenks uttered her name?

Suddenly, I heard a noise – the faint sound of small and graceful steps on the landing. A soothing and sweet voice rang through the quiet of the house.

"Jenks, what is the commotion at this late hour? It's making Madam uneasy…"

The voice drifted off as its owner's eyes finally landed on me.

I felt pierced to my very core by a keen, sincere and bottomless gaze. Two weary, wide, dark brown eyes were taking in my appearance, trying to decide who I was. Those same eyes turned to Jenks, in a silent but questioning look.

"Miss Isabella, Master Edward has come home," Jenks said, almost apologetically.

So this was Miss Isabella Marie Swan, and she was, indeed, living in my parents' house. Her eyes went wide with shock and her hands flew to cover her mouth.

"Thank God you are here," she whispered, before closing her eyes and staggering against the banister. She was about to collapse to the floor.

I had been raised to be a gentleman, and without hesitation, I ran to catch her from falling, trying to maintain propriety as much as possible, under the circumstances. Jenks also rushed to Miss Isabella's side, moving as fast as his age would allow.

"Miss Bella, are you all right? I'll fetch the Master's brandy, it will do you good. You're done in, child," he said, a hint of alarm in his voice. I did not fail to notice that, in his distress for her condition, he had called her "Bella".

I remembered Jenks as a strict and reclusive person, and the affectionate tone of his words was a clear indication that he must be fond of this Miss Isabella. I also realised with some consternation, I was still holding her in my arms with a little more familiarity than social conventions would condone. I stiffened, sensing her discomfort, but she was quicker than me and broke free from my grasp. Without a word, she righted herself and smoothed her dress, smiling shyly at me.

Then, she turned to Jenks and replied, "No, Jenks, thank you. That won't be necessary. Brandy makes me drowsy, and I don't want to fall asleep while I'm sitting with Madam."

Jenks seemed displeased. "But, Miss Bella…" She shook her head and added, with a warning look, "I'm fine, Jenks, but…"

"Yes, Miss?"

"Perhaps you could bring some tea, please? And maybe Mister Cullen could use some dinner, as well, after his long journey?" I marvelled for a second at her tone, resolute yet sweet, courteous but without condescension.

"Of course, Miss Bella. I'll fetch that myself. You go on and talk to Master Edward." And with that, Jenks disappeared in the direction of the kitchens, as Miss Isabella started to walk away from me, too.

"Wait a minute, there!" I snapped, and she stopped abruptly, turning to face me, in a graceful and fluid move that left the silk of her gown swishing around her figure. Still silent, she stared at me with those expressive eyes of hers, perusing my countenance, but politely waiting for me to address her again.

"Where is my father? I want to see him now," my words had a much harsher tone than I had intended and I saw a pained expression cloud her face before she replied.

"Mister Cullen, I am aware that you must have questions, but…" she paused, an uneasy frown marring her features.

I was about to unleash another string of hasty words on her, but I stopped short when I saw how deeply troubled she appeared. Until then. I had only been captivated by her eyes until then, but now I could not look away from her figure, although I knew it was highly inappropriate of me to stare at her.

Her long, dark mahogany hair was woven in an intricate tangle of tresses that gathered at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were framed by long lashes and a set of perfectly shaped eyebrows. She had a fine complexion, with porcelain-white skin that I had not seen in years – no-one in the West Indies could keep such ivory skin unblemished by the cruel sun for long – but her regular features were marked by fatigue and distress. There were dark circles under her eyes and her lips were trembling. Strangely, this did not sit well with me, and seeing her so obviously distressed suddenly caused me to partially regret my earlier words.

"Who are you, anyway? And why are you living in my father's house?" I sighed, fully aware that, while I was no longer snapping at her, this new onslaught of brusque questioning could hardly be considered civil conversation.

"I am Isabella Swan, Mister Cullen, and I wrote you the letter. Forgive my forwardness, but the circumstance was extreme." She spoke without hesitation, but did not look me in the eye, either.

I realised that her answer, while polite and to the point, revealed nothing new. I had already figured out who she was from Jenks's earlier words and had made the connection to her mysterious letter.

"I think we might need to sit down for a lengthy conversation, Miss Swan," I conceded, for once managing not to sound rude and patronizing.

She merely nodded and gestured for me to follow her into the library. The fire was already crackling lively; a tray containing a tea service and a plate of cold cuts had been placed on a table by two armchairs that flanked the fireplace, the very same fireplace I'd been longing to sit by for the last six weeks.

I motioned for her to sit down first, noting with some surprise that she chose to sit in my mother's usual place. I sat down too, the weariness from my long journey finally overpowering me. She handed me a cup of tea and then pushed the plate in my direction, so that I might help myself to the food.

"Miss Swan, I would hate to sound unduly persistent, but…I want to see my father now," I began, sighing, because I was no longer feeling so sure of my own footing.

"Mister Cullen, I… I apologise if my letter upset you. You must have been so worried. Your mother needed – needs – you here at Cullen Manor with her but…" She seemed to struggle with her words as much as I was. "Mister Cullen, I really do not know how to break this to you, but Carlisle…I mean, your father…" she continued, her voice still shaken.

"My father? What is wrong with my father? You will tell me now!"

My rash temper finally got the better of my intentions, and I could not keep the angry, agitated tone from my voice. Miss Swan drew a deep breath, but seemed otherwise unmoved by my outburst. Raising her face to meet my gaze, I saw a flicker of an unknown fire in her eyes.

"I was trying to spare your feelings, Mister Cullen. I see my concerns were futile," she stated, her gaze and voice unwavering. My continued outbursts were, no doubt, forming her resolve that any kindness towards me would fall on deaf ears.

"Dispense with the niceties, Miss Swan. I have been my own master for the last six years," I retorted, my words now as unfeeling and hasty as my temper.

"Very well, then, Mister Cullen. Your father is dead. Unfortunately, he passed away only a fortnight after I wrote to you. My condolences," she replied, her tone now devoid of emotion.

My hands shook in rage, shock and grief.

My father was gone. My father was gone and there was nothing I could do. I was shaking with powerless anger, my feelings hardly contained.

I felt Miss Swan delicately prying my fingers away form the teacup I was clenching, placing place itsafely back on the table. With a simple, merciful gesture, she'd proven her point to me, but she was, evidently, too much of a lady to lord it over me.

"Why? How? My brother?" These were the only broken words I could muster. I felt silk swishing to my side and saw that Miss Swan was kneeling in front of the fireplace, rekindling the dying flame.

"It was a severe stroke, Mister Cullen. It was sudden and violent. He never recovered," she said, her strangled words so low that they were almost a pained whisper in the darkness.

"I still can't…why?"

She heaved a deep, laboured sigh and returned to her seat, smoothing creases in her gown to avoid meeting my gaze. I felt tears on my cheeks even before I realised that I was weeping – there went my commandeering ways; I was crying in front of a stranger. A strange, beautiful lady, who appeared to have my mother's trust and had been on first name terms with my father.

"Painful, unpleasant things happened, Mister Cullen. Things that…but it's not my place…" she stammered, still avoiding my gaze.

"My brother, Miss Swan? Where is my brother?" I asked.

"Your brother is no longer welcome here, I am afraid," she finally confessed, with a sorrowful expression in her eyes.

My hands, clenched into angry fists, banged on the armrests, as I rose to my full height again. "If he did something…If he said something…"

I heard a stifled, uneasy gasp and caught a glimpse of Miss Swan covering her mouth with her hand. She was weeping silently, too. That had to mean something, at least. Maybe my suspicions were right. Maybe…

"Mister Cullen?" she said, a hint of hesitation in her voice. I turned towards her, my tall frame towering over her diminutive figure huddled in the armchair.

"Would you… Would you like to see your mother before you retire for the night?"

I had no idea how this petite person could know that the one thing that would calm me was my mother's presence, but somehow, she did. I nodded and, mimicking her earlier gestures, I motioned for her to lead the way.

In nerve-wracking silence, Miss Swan left the library and climbed the main staircase that led upstairs to the family rooms. My mother's rooms were facing the gardens, at the back of the square-plan house.

She stopped outside my mother's room and turned to face me. Her next actions were so unexpected that they took my breath away. Gently, she brushed her dainty hand against my forearm in an openly soothing gesture. Her fingers had been barely there, and disappeared just as softly.

"She's changed a lot, Mister Cullen. This might be a shock, even for a brave man whose feelings don't need sparing," she murmured.

I nodded, hoping that she would read in my eyes my unspoken gratitude for her kind and affectionate concern, even if I was sure she was behaving like this solely for my mother's sake.

Miss Isabella was, of course, quite correct in her assessment of my mother's condition. It was a shock to see her like this and I tried to hide my distress as best I could, seeking solace in the darkness of her room. By faint candlelight, she appeared to be a mere shadow of her former self, a shrunken image of the strong and beautiful woman I remembered with a son's devoted love.

I stood helpless at the foot of her bed, reluctant to get any closer and unable to move away. Meanwhile, Miss Isabella smoothed her hair, squeezed her hand reassuringly and adjusted her pillows and covers.

My mother usually harboured a pointed dislike for anyone fussing over her, she took pride in being an independent woman – and yet, she did not argue one bit while Miss Isabella cared for her with the well-practised, yet loving gestures of someone who had being doing this for a long while. There was neither obligation nor carelessness in her lithe and affectionate movements, and it was perfectly clear to me, with a furtive glance into my mother's eyes, that she deeply cared for Miss Isabella and that the feeling was mutual.

I saw my mother's eyes squint in the darkness and heard her whisper something into Miss Isabella's ear. Miss Isabella soothingly replied, her voice a gentle caress, "Yes, Mama. Edward has really come home."

My mother's hollow eyes brightened at the mention of my name and, for a moment, she seemed her former self again. "Edward. Please, come closer."

I moved to sit by her side on the bed, opposite Miss Isabella. My mother patted my hand lightly and her gaze slowly returned to Miss Isabella.

"Thank you, child. Thank you for bringing my son home to me," she said, her voice full of emotion, as tears welled up in her green eyes.

With a frown I'd seen before, Miss Isabella quickly replied, "I didn't do anything, Mama. You should rest now, I will leave you with Edward. I am sure you want to spend some time with him."

Once again, she seemed to know exactly what I wanted – and needed. I was longing for a private interview with my mother, but she was in no condition to withstand the subjects I wanted to broach with her. Besides, Miss Isabella seemed to be perfectly attuned to my mother's needs and habits and I was loathe to see her leave. She would be of much more use at my mother's side than I could ever be. My mother, though, had other ideas on the matter.

"Child, you deserve an entire night of proper rest. Go, Edward will sit with me for a while."

Miss Isabella tried to contradict her, but to no avail. "Bella, please, go. I will be fine." Even my mother called her "Bella".

Miss Isabella finally acquiesced to my mother's wishes. But, before she left the room, however, she eyed me with a stern expression. "My room is just down the hall. Please fetch me if either of you need anything," she pleaded as I held the door open for her. "I could not rest anyway, knowing that she's unwell."

Even if I would never contemplate describing my mother's current condition as simply being "unwell", I could sense that she was guarded with her words, knowing that my mother could hear.

"You do care about her, Miss Isabella, don't you?"

She nodded. "As if she were my own mother. And she has treated me as a daughter. Good night, Mister Cullen," she whispered, leaving me on the threshold to absorb the full import of her words.

I went back to sit with my mother and there, in her loving presence, I could no longer contain my grief and let my tears run freely. I had no qualms in hiding the true extent of my feelings in her company.

"Father is gone, mother. What shall we do? What shall I do?"

She squeezed my hand tenderly, but weakly. "You will brave this storm, Edward, of that I am confident. Look at the man you've become. I am so proud of you."

A faint smile graced her lips and in that smile I saw another echo of the woman she'd once been – the sunlight of our family, the mortar that held us all together, at all times. I could not help asking about my brother.

"Mother, I received a letter from Emmett. He wrote that he was going to marry Miss Rosalie Hale. What happened?"

My mother's face contorted in pain. "Emmett…he…made some poor decisions…" Her breathing became ragged and uneasy as she struggled to continue. "I can't bear to…"

I immediately reached for the glass of water on her nightstand. "It's alright, mother. We won't talk about this now. Tell me something else."

She relaxed, but only minutely. I tried to choose a safer topic of conversation that would not tax her strength overmuch. "Mother…if you don't mind me asking, who is Miss Isabella, exactly?"

My mother smiled again, with a fond tenderness in her eyes that I could not fathom and that I did not recall ever seeing in her.

"I am her godmother, Edward, and your father was her legal guardian. She is an orphan – my third cousin's daughter, actually. When her parents died, I sent for her. I could not bear the thought of her living alone in London. With Alice off to school, and you living in Jamaica…I do get lonely, sometimes, son."

I was perplexed and surprised. There had been a _de facto_ addition to my family, and no one had bothered to tell me about it. I felt incredibly left out. My mother read my expression right away.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"When did this happen, mother?"

My voice was ice-cold and detached again. I had no good reason to be this rude to my mother but, oddly enough, it seemed that I had no middle ground where Miss Isabella was concerned. Either way, I seemed to forgo any and all rules of courtesy, common sense, and propriety. Worse still, my mother picked up on every shift in my demeanour, as insignificant as it might be.

She sighed, with a slightly indulgent look on her face. "It happened a year after you moved to Kingston, Edward. It did not seem to be that important at the time and then…"

In over five years, no one had ever mentioned anything about this in any of their letters. I had never had any idea that now I had – what was she to me, exactly? – some relative living at Cullen Manor. I didn't understand. I could not understand how this, of all things, would be treated as a trifle by my mother.

"Are you upset, Edward? Why, dear?"

"Because no-one has ever bothered to tell me! Who is she, anyway? A gold digger in disguise? Some poor offspring that you have taken in, out of charity? Not to mention the legal implications of all this! Father is dead, who will be her legal guardian now? Emmett?"

I was truly incensed though, in all fairness, I had no right to be. I had made another life for myself in Jamaica, I could not blame my family for doing the same here in Cornwall. Still, I felt deprived of my place in the family – why had they kept this from me? What other secrets had been kept from me?

My mother was not best pleased with my behaviour and her scathing look made my blood run cold, as it often had when I was a little boy up to no good. She extended her hand and rang the bell, without so much as a word.

"Mother?" I asked, trying to look properly chastened.

"I will not tolerate this behaviour towards Bella, Edward. Please, leave the room." Her tone brooked no argument. However, in a miserable attempt to set things to rights, I continued to make a fool of myself.

"Mother, please, I am only trying to understand."

"You are stamping your foot like a wilful child, Edward. I am tired. Please, leave."

The door clicked open and Bella herself, still perfectly dressed and looking rather agitated, peeked her head inside. "Are you alright, Mama?"

My mother's countenance changed dramatically. "I only wanted to wish you goodnight, child. Please, come closer."

Bella – how was it that all my barriers were crumbling, so much so that I, too, desired the privilege to address her by her own name? – complied with my mother's request and knelt by the bed, her eyes level with my mother's.

"Your cheeks are flushed, Mama. Is anything the matter?" she asked, laying her hand on my mother's forehead to gauge her temperature.

My mother ignored the question, while Bella threw a sidelong glance in my direction, one almost as scathing as that of my mother's.

"You need to rest now, Mama. It is past your bedtime and Doctor Newton…"

"Doctor _Michael_ Newton? The Newton boy?" I couldn't help asking. The name did ring a bell in my memory.

"The very one. You should see him, Edward. He's as boring as he ever was," commented my mother, and I was glad to see that, even in her illness, she had not lost her inclination for pert replies. Bella fought to suppress a smile and, quite predictably, seemed to agree with my mother.

"As boring as he may be, Mama…I think you should sleep now."

"Mother, Miss Isabella is right. I will see you in the morning," I said, as I stood to take my leave.

My mother nodded, but did not offer a reply. I had been dismissed without ceremony and it was tangible proof that I was not back in her good graces, yet.

I closed the door behind me, my hand still on the door knob, and overheard my mother speak to Bella. I couldn't resist eavesdropping.

"You will tell him everything tomorrow, Bella. Answer all of his questions."

Her voice barely above a strangled whisper, Bella replied, "Mama, please. It is not my place. Soon the lawyer will sort it all out anyway. Please?"

Bella was pleading, but my mother did not relent. "He needs to know before he learns the terms of Carlisle's will. Please, Bella. For my sake."

My mother's voice became a ragged whisper again and Bella whispered back with a stifled sob, "Very well, Mama. For your sake."

I could withstand another sleepless night, if there was a chance that I would finally have some answers on the morrow. I lay awake in my childhood bedroom all night, listening to someone's quiet weeping down the hall, and fought the inappropriate desire to go and comfort her.

Come morning, I made my way to the kitchen in search of Jenks. The faithful old butler would know the details of Miss Isabella's arrival at Cullen Manor. I was hoping that he could be persuaded to share them with me.

"Good morning, Master Edward. Miss Bella is in the orchard, but I'll fetch her directly."

Quite surprised to find that she was up and about at such an early hour, I recovered just in time to stop Jenks and bid him stay. "Jenks, would you care to enlighten me on something?"

The old man still went about his business, but eyed me warily over his shoulder. "I would be glad to help you any way I can, Master Edward."

"Miss Isabella, Jenks. That's what I'd like to know. Why did they have to take her in?"

Jenks set a cup of tea and some porridge in front of me. As I attacked my breakfast, he replied.

"They were not forced to do it, Master Edward. They wanted to, but they had to convince Miss Bella, and it weren't easy. She wanted to have her way and remain in her parents' house in London. Madam wouldn't hear of it. End of story. You know your mother better than I do."

I couldn't help a sullen grimace as I prodded on with my interrogation. "So we took in the pauper orphaned girl?" I knew that my tone was disdainful, but I couldn't control my reactions any longer.

Jenks, as much as my mother, seemed mighty displeased with my choice of words.

"You're a grown man, Master Edward, but I'll find a way to tan your hide if you can't keep a civil tongue where Miss Bella is concerned. You might be able to fool her, but you can't fool me, nor your mother."

I huffed, greatly vexed by the outcome of our conversation. I rose to my feet and made my way towards the orchard. Maybe the orphaned girl would comply with my mother's request and enlighten me herself.

Over my shoulder, I heard Jenks smugly say, "Sides, boy, a house in Grosvenor Square and a fortune of thirty-five thousand pounds hardly qualifies the lass as a penniless orphan, now?"

I was utterly shocked. I prided myself in being a skilled judge of character. I was very good at reading people, analysing their little quirks, and breaking down their actions to scavenge out their ulterior motives. Instead, I was navigating a perilous ocean of doubt, an unchartered territory without any stars to guide me. I'd been humbled by this creature.

Everything I knew was wrong.

Still shaken by this realisation, I found her indeed in the orchard, with the gardener by her side. They were potting plants and pruning the shrubs. I quickly noted that she had no qualms in tackling menial work, even if she had the means to live like a grand lady. I couldn't exactly say the same for myself. I was a younger son, still without a fortune to my name. She was an heiress; she could be her own mistress, with an enviable level of independence. Maybe, I reasoned, only maybe, this was not what she wanted?

She saw me approaching in the corner of her eye and stood up to greet me. She still looked very tired, and distressed.

"Miss Isabella, good morning." I spoke, with more civility than I had mustered in our prior conversations. I tried to behave like the gentleman that my mother had raised, through the haze of my painfully conflicted impressions.

She brushed some dust off her hands and replied to my greeting with a forced smile. "Good morning, Mister Cullen. Have you been offered some breakfast yet?"

I noticed that she was always a perfect host and it was then that it finally dawned on me. She was acting as the mistress of the house. Reflecting on my mother's appearance last evening, it occurred to me that she'd probably had the responsibility of running of the household for some time. She took care of my mother, saw that her needs and mine were attended to, she directed the servants…In short, she had been forced to fill my mother's shoes. I paused to wonder what else she'd been contending with before my return.

I was suddenly in awe of this unassuming, but extremely resourceful and resilient young lady, and I felt like a worthless idiot for my behaviour towards her. The fact that she wasn't aware of my derogatory words wasn't important – I'd done her a great injustice all the same.

"How long has this been going on, Miss Isabella?"

She gave one quick glance to the gardener, who immediately made himself scarce, and turned to face me. I was well aware that my question was deliberately vague, and that I had completely neglected to answer her earlier question.

"It all started with Emmett...I mean, with your brother's wedding…"

Of course, she had to be on first name terms with Emmett as well. I suddenly disliked these formalities with a passion and wondered whether I could dispense with them without bordering on impropriety.

"Miss Isabella, please, there is no really no need for all that. I understand that you…are close to my family. But please, do continue…"

We were walking along a sheltered pathway in the garden, at some distance from the house. We were far from prying ears and eyes and it was an ideal setting for this ominous conversation. She sat down on a stone bench whilst I stood there, towering over her.

"Would you please call me Bella, then? No one ever calls me Isabella around here," she offered, with a shy smile. I nodded, encouraging her to continue and feeling quite pleased that I'd been granted my wish, without having to ask for it.

"It all started with Emmett wanting to marry Miss Hale," she said. "Carlisle did not approve of the match, but could do nothing to prevent it. It was a very trying time."

"How so?" I asked, confused.

"Your brother is twenty-nine, Mister Cullen. Your father could not withhold his consent and Miss Hale's parents favoured the match, so there was no way to stop them."

"But what about Emmett's prospects? He's not independent…"

Technically, neither of us was, until Father's estate could be divided between us under the terms of his last will and testament. That was another matter worthy of some consideration.

"Miss Rosalie has her own fortune from her mother's marriage articles, and is an only child. Her father's estate will revert back to her, eventually. Independence was never an issue." Bella concluded, wistfully.

"I don't understand. What was Father's objection, then?"

"You'd better sit down, because this is where everything becomes…unpleasant. I'm sorry you have to hear this from me," she said, her tone bashful.

She appeared to have a special place in everyone's affections, and yet she felt that she had no business in knowing the family's dealings? Could it be possible that, like me, she felt she had no real place in this household?

"I'm thankful that someone is finally taking the time to tell me," I added, vehemently, hoping that she could see past my surprise that I was not being unkind to her, only to the situation. "And while we're dispensing with the formalities, Mister Cullen was my father. I'm just Edward around here."

"Oh, you're just Edward, who lives in Jamaica, half a world away, and rides through his plantation all day, chasing the sun…" she said, dreamily, with a joyful glint in her eyes. It was the first time that I saw her this carefree and relaxed, and I was already desperate for that state to last as long as possible.

She smiled, with a faint blush colouring her otherwise pale features. I realised, an uneasy frown marring my brow, that she was quite glorious when she looked this happy. She suddenly caught herself, and began stuttering in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said…It's just…Esme speaks very often of you, that's how I know. I meant no offence," she almost whispered.

"None taken, Miss Bella. It just baffles me, that you know so much about me…and I never even knew of your existence. You are a well-kept secret at Cullen Manor."

My statement, meant to be complimentary, had the quite opposite effect to increase her blush.

"There is nothing to say about me," she replied in haste, pointedly casting her glance away from me.

I begged to differ, but held my tongue. I did not want to cross her in any way, after my mother's bitter chiding last night. I was beginning to fear that my own mother would favour Bella over me, and this creeping thought did not sit well.

"Emmett married Rosalie by special licence, practically in secret," she continued with a small voice.

I was so lost in my own musings that I'd all but forgotten the whole point of this conversation. Shock brought me back to the present.

"They eloped?" I spat, my hands clenching into angry fists.

"No, but it was just as bad to your parents. They got married alone, with Miss Hale's parents as witnesses, in the Hale's family church. It was quite a statement in itself."

Statement indeed, I thought – the Hales had had no scruples at all in trampling all over my family's concerns so openly. I sensed some hesitation on Bella's part to continue her account of these unfortunate events – she was probably getting to the really gruesome details.

"And then?" I asked, feeling that it would be easier for her to proceed, with some encouragement.

"Emmett had the gall to show his face at Cullen Manor, proud as a peacock, with his new bride. He surely could have found another way to go about things. That was the day all hell finally broke loose."

"The conceited, selfish fool!" I growled, jumping to my feet again, pacing in angry circles and unable to sit still any longer.

"It broke your father's heart, quite literally." Her voice was broken, too, as she uttered those last words that rang solemn and ominous, hanging over us like a dark canopy despite the clear mid-spring sky.

"He brought it on! He couldn't stay away! No, he had to come here to gloat, the selfish, conceited oaf!"

I was shouting now, overcome by a violent rush of anger, all my feelings of brotherly affection and devotion forgotten. My fist, longing for a release of this ill-accumulated tension, hit the bark of an innocent elm tree nearby.

"Ouch! Damn it all to hell and back!" I exclaimed in pain.

I felt a feather-light touch on my knuckles. Ever the caretaker, Bella was inspecting the damage I'd inflicted upon myself. I tried to pry my hand away from her gentle touch, but my carefully crafted resolve crumbled around me as she checked on my bruised and bleeding hand without commenting on my foolishness. She was cleansing the cuts with her own handkerchief. I felt hot, furious tears line my face as she continued this tale of endless woes.

"Carlisle refused access to the house both to him and Rosalie. He said he'd never speak to either of them again. Your mother tried to bring them round, but it was useless. They'd become so hot-headed with their argument, that both were beyond seeing reason. The last straw was…" Her voice broke down in a strangled sob.

All this had affected her, too. I could see that, but irrationally, my own mind would not wrap itself around the fact that she'd witnessed all this first hand and had been affected as well Instead, I rationalised that she'd been there to prevent it, that she could have done something to alter the course of events and yet…

She was the one sitting here unscathed, whilst my family had been torn in two by this bitter feud. My own father had succumbed to apoplexy caused by my elder brother's foolish actions, and my mother was bed-ridden with an unknown affliction from which she would likely not recover. My family was falling under the axe at every turn, whilst she was living here, adored by everyone. In that instant, as that errant thought hit me, I blindly resented her and just wished she would have stayed behind in London, in her glamorous house in Grosvenor Square, instead of caving in to my mother's wishes.

"…The last straw was that you did nothing to prevent this!" I growled again, causing her to suddenly recoil away from me. I barely spared a sidelong glance at her, my spite grossly overshadowing my better judgment.

She did not reply right away, shocked beyond words and wise enough not to comment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her return to her former seat on the stone bench before she continued.

"…The last straw was when Emmett shouted at Carlisle that you would have understood, that you would have supported him. The vaguest possibility, however slim, of both his sons turning their back on him, was too much for your father. The stroke was inevitable."

Once again, I was wrong about her. Once again, everything I knew was wrong. Now I was really helpless in the face of all the tragedy around me, and I'd perhaps just pushed her as far away from me as possible with my reckless resentment.

Maybe it was all the better for her. Maybe it was all the better for me.

"Leave me alone."

She did not reply, but I heard the swish of silk as she walked away. She complied with my ill-tempered wish and headed wordlessly back to the house.

After the painful confrontation with Bella, I spent two disgracefully slow and lonely days loitering around the house, like a boat that had lost its anchor. I divided my time between my mother's room and the library, always careful to avoid crossing paths with Bella. When she sat with my mother, I buried myself in the library, trying to make sense of my father's papers. When she was elsewhere, I dared not show my face around the house and chose to sit with my mother instead. Either way, I achieved the small comfort of seeing her as little as possible.

For my mother's sake, I tried to disguise how much Bella's revelations had affected me. The ruse was ineffective. She called me out on every ill-chosen word and on every convoluted way I found to lead all our conversations back to her. Bella was a lingering presence, to the extent that two days of avoidance were already stretching my endurance to thin rags.

On the third day of my self-inflicted torture, I sat in the library again, intent on settling my father's accounts, when I heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," I replied instantly. Jenks ushered in an unknown gentleman.

"Mister Cullen. Mister Briggs is here to discuss the terms of your father's will."

I recognised the name of our family lawyer and gestured for him to take a seat. Nodding at my instruction to fetch refreshments for Mister Briggs, Jenks left the room.

"Please be seated, Mister Briggs. I believe we both know your business here today. Please proceed."

Mister Briggs stared at me with a blank expression on his benign face and retrieved a bundle of documents from his folder.

"I must say the terms of this will are not entirely unexpected, given the circumstances," said Mister Briggs, in a neutral and businesslike manner.

"Proceed, Mister Briggs," I had no inclination to indulge in small talk. I was longing to know what my father expected of me.

By law, Mister Briggs was required to unseal the document and peruse its contents first, to ascertain that it had not been tampered with, and then he would pass it on to me. After a quick perusal, no doubt because he'd probably been the very person to draw it up and seal it in the first place, Briggs finally handed over to me my father's last will and testament.

I skimmed quickly through the preambles and legal niceties, slowing when I reached the main body of the document that detailed the various bequests.

I was to have everything.

Even from beyond the grave, Father had a few bones to pick with Emmett, and made a point of expressing his displeasure in no uncertain terms. Emmett had been completely disinherited in favour of me and of my little sister Alice, who was to have a fortune of twenty-five thousand pounds settled upon her when she married.

There was a codicil to the will, though. The codicil stated that Isabella Marie Swan, as a rightful member of the family, would always be welcome at Cullen Manor, and that her current lodgings would be set aside in perpetuity as her own personal living quarters, should she elect to remain here. Carlisle then expounded how beneficial Isabella's presence had been to the family and, by virtue of that, she was also to have the stallion called Dark Fire, my father's favourite mount in the stables of Cullen Manor.

I was at a loss. I quickly dismissed Mister Briggs to muse over the terms of my father's will in peace.

Both Cullen Manor and the plantation were mine. I'd always wanted my father to acknowledge my endeavours in Jamaica, but for him to do so posthumously, and at the expense of my brother, left a bitter taste in my mouth, even if Emmett had brought this on himself. Emmett deserved this, for his cruel selfishness had ultimately resulted in my father's death.

My father had also made sure that Isabella would always have a proper place at Cullen Manor, and a means of escape as well, should she desire it and – I thought wryly – as long as she was able to ride a hot-blooded stallion through the downs of Cornwall.

Another light, but sure, knock on the door broke me away from these thoughts.

"Come in," I replied, observing that today I was receiving quite a procession of visitors.

The visitor, though, was none other than Isabella herself. For all my attempts at trying to avoid her, I supposed it was inevitable. After all, she could well be living here in perpetuity.

"I do not wish to disturb you," she began, wringing her hands in front of her.

"Not at all, Bella. Please, take a seat."

She nodded uneasily but did not sit down, choosing, instead, to keep her place by the library door.

"I just wished to let you know that I've written to Alice," she whispered, her eyes searching my features for any signs of distress.

I did feel uneasy, but only because I had been negligent in informing my sister of my return. I only hoped Alice would forgive the oversight, given the circumstances. Once again, Bella was taking care of my family. I thought of little Alice, who wouldn't be so little anymore. I had left behind a little girl of twelve, returning to a young lady of eighteen. I wondered what she would look like now.

I suddenly realised the actual reason behind Bella's gesture. If Alice needed to come home, then there was no hope left for my mother.

I sighed, and nodded, muttering strangled words of gratitude in Bella's direction. Silently, Bella was closing the door behind her, pausing only when I addressed her again. "Fetch the Newton boy, Bella. I want to talk to him."

"He'll be here after luncheon. He rides over from Falmouth every other day," she replied, this time truly shutting the door behind her.

True to Bella's word, Doctor Newton arrived at Cullen Manor in the early afternoon, just as I was climbing the stairs to go sit with my mother.

Bella accompanied us in silence as far as my mother's door, where she turned towards the doctor and greeted him with a sad voice, "Thank you, Doctor Newton, for everything you're doing."

The Newton boy's face lit up at her words and his hand reached out to gently brush her arm. "You don't need to thank me, Miss Isabella. And it's Michael to you."

Bella looked away uneasily, a light blush colouring her cheeks. She nodded and went back downstairs. Despite the situation, I couldn't help my irritation towards the Newton boy, because he'd made Bella uncomfortable. A furious, unbidden thought also shook me – I alone wanted to bring the blush to her cheeks.

As I entered my mother's room, I immediately sensed the dramatic change her condition. The room was permeated by a faintly foul smell, that could be explained away with only one word – sickroom.

My mother's condition was worsening by the hour, that much I could see for myself as I got closer to her bed. She was highly feverish, her breath ragged, and her eyes closed as she clutched the bed sheets by her sides. This was her last struggle and I steeled myself to have her snatched away from me at any moment.

I turned to Doctor Newton, who merely nodded, correctly surmising my unspoken question. "Will you at least tell me what it is, Michael?"

"It's a wasting sickness, Edward. I've done all I can. Miss Isabella has been a wonderful help, too," he added, with an unmistakable adoration in his eyes.

"She's lost the will to live," I said, defeated.

"Not the will, Edward. See how she's fighting still," countered Doctor Newton. I shot him an enquiring glance.

"She's lost her reason to live," I said after some reflection, answering my own question.

Sadly, this made sense to me. Without my father, my mother saw no point in dragging out her existence alone. I envied her for a moment, because she'd felt this all-encompassing love and it had been requited, until the very end. Doctor Newton patted my shoulder and left.

Hours later, I still hadn't moved from her side. All this long while, I'd held her hand, even if she could barely recognise me at the best of times. Bella stood on the other side of the bed, alternately pressing cold compresses to my mother's scalding hot forehead and caressing her hand. Every now and then, Bella murmured soothing words in her ear.

Late into the night, as Bella curled in an armchair, dozing only because I'd flatly ordered her to get some sleep, my mother opened her eyes and squeezed my hand.

"Mother?"

She nodded and tried to speak, but her parched throat would not cooperate. When she did speak, her words were a croaked whisper, so low and unclear that I struggled to understand her.

"Edward…take care of your Bella for me, son…"

"Of course, mother," I replied, though half-heartedly, because there was no way I would contradict my dying mother.

A discerning eye to her very last minute, my mother guessed at my lack of conviction and repeated, brokenly, "Your Bella, take care…Edward…take…"

She could not finish.

She never would.

She was gone.

The following morning, a carriage rattled through the gates of Cullen Manor as Bella and I were upstairs by my mother's deathbed.

Attracted by the noise, Bella approached the window and, with a strangled sob, literally ran from the room. I swiftly followed her downstairs and saw her fling the front door open without ceremony.

She ran towards a slight and graceful, but sadly beautiful figure that all but fell off the carriage steps in her haste to get to Bella.

Bella embraced her tightly, soothing strands of her hair away from her face. From behind Bella's shoulders, I finally recognised my little sister.

Alice was home. Alice was home and desperately wailing in Bella's arms.

"Is she gone? Am I too late?" asked Alice, grieved tears streaming down her face.

Bella nodded, causing another outburst of tears from Alice. Then, Bella moved away from Alice's side and said, "Go to Edward, Alice. Your brother needs you now."

Alice then took notice of me standing by the door.

"Edward?" she said, eyeing me warily through the tears. I stretched my arms open to welcome her back, looking at my sister for the first time in six years.

Even in her distress, I could see the sweet features of the little girl I'd left behind. This beautiful young lady also bore a striking resemblance to my mother in her hazel eyes and in her wavy, caramel-coloured hair. Petite in stature, she stood shorter than Bella and quite disappeared when I enveloped her in my arms. With my little sister by my side, I finally gave free rein to my grief, and let my own tears flow.

That night, after dinner, Alice sought me out in the library.

"You can't lock yourself up in here forever, you know," she announced, in a melodic voice that was sorely inappropriate to the situation.

"I don't understand what you mean, Alice," I answered, my own voice clipped and annoyed.

"I think you understand me perfectly, brother. It doesn't take a scientist to see that you are going out of your way to avoid her."

Bella. Of course Alice would see my strained, ill-controlled behaviour around her and, endowed with an inquisitive mind since childhood, she would naturally begin to spin stories in her head concerning my motives.

"I'm not avoiding her," I countered, in a lame attempt to deflect her scrutiny.

"And the moon is made of green cheese," she replied, tartly at first, but then changing her tone.

"I will not allow you to do this to her, I see what you're doing. If your resentment drives her away, Edward, God help me, you will never see me again."

Angrily, I dropped my book on the table with a loud thud.

"This is blackmail, Alice. It's hardly fair."

"She's my sister, Edward. That's not fair, either."

And with that, she stormed out of the library, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My sister was turning against me, all because of my despicable behaviour towards Bella.

I couldn't find a solution to this quandary, because all my attempts were futile, all my certainties were constantly being shaken by this girl and her unexpected nature.

With some irritation, I thought that Bella was avoiding me as well. She never came to see me, she never even talked to me. And then it hit me. Bella was grieving, too, and now she had Alice. She did not need me, nor could she seek me out – it would hardly be considered proper. I thought about the times that lay ahead of us.

Would Bella want to stay at Cullen Manor? Would I be expected to stay in Cornwall, or could I flee back to Jamaica?

The next few days leading up to my mother's funeral were a cold, numb, painful whirlwind of activity. I would have rather confined myself to my room, and surrendered to the blind grief of losing both my parents, but the burden that my father's will had suddenly thrust on my shoulders, left me no such leisure.

An endless stream of visitors stopped by to pay their respects and, as the rightful master of the house, I could not shirk my responsibilities. Many were genuinely grieved by my mother's passing, whilst others were just curious to see the prodigal son looked returned, after his long exile in the West Indies.

There was a common undercurrent to their kind words of sympathy, though. All of them naturally gravitated towards Bella, seeking her out from among the crowd. With Alice constantly at her side, the two of them had everything under control, from the ordinary running of the household to being socially acceptable towards the throng of mourners attending my mother's wake and funeral.

After the funeral, I spoke with to the Newton boy, who was, as my mother had correctly remarked, as boring as he'd ever been. He had another major defect – he couldn't stop talking about Bella. Just as I was trying to concoct a way to pry myself away from the conversation, I saw the small crowd in the house part.

A huge and familiar figure appeared looming on the other side of the hall. I could scarce believe my eyes.

"Emmett." My voice rang cold and distant.

"I want to see Mother's grave, Edward. I have no quarrel with you."

He'd come at the wake, waiting until after the funeral, knowing that my sense of propriety would prevent me from making a scene, thus relenting to his request. How little he knew me now, if he thought I would disregard my father's wishes, with my mother not even cold in her grave.

"You are not welcome here," I replied, my face composed, despite the fury that raged in my eyes.

"You can't deny me the right to see my mother's grave," he pleaded. I could see that he hoped to reason with me. Mistakenly, he thought our brotherly bond would be untarnished by all that had transpired. He thought wrong.

"You are not welcome here," I repeated coldly. "Do I have to call the constable?"

"For God's sake, Edward! Don't be so damn self-righteous, I'm your brother!" Now he was almost shouting.

We were indeed causing a scene and my uneasy guests were slowly disappearing from the room. A light touch on my forearm stopped me before I could truly give my brother a piece of my mind.

"Emmett, will you step outside with me for a moment, please?"

I was not surprised to hear Bella's soothing voice beside me. Again, she was taking care of my family, she was rescuing me from myself. She threw me a sidelong, concerned glance and whispered, "Let me handle this, Edward. Emmett will not pick a fight with me."

I was worried, and was about to beg her not to go, but the look of fierce courage in her eyes dissuaded me. Of course she could convince Emmett to behave – was there anything she was incapable of?

She sensed my uncertainty and repeated, "Let me do this for you, please."

She was doing more than extricating me from an awkward situation, she was begging me to let her in. Could I do that?

I was suddenly gripped by the irrational fear that Emmett's reactions would be less than gentlemanly and I feared he would harm her. Inexplicably, I wanted to protect her.

What was she doing to me?

My father had disinherited my brother, my mother was dead, my sister wasn't speaking to me, my banished brother was intruding on my mother's memorial and yet… all I could think about was how this quiet, determined, sweet, beautiful girl was turning my life upside down. I swallowed hard, knowing I was standing here, at the turn of the tide, the waves of a raging ocean crashing down on me.

I covered her hand with mine and whispered back, "Be safe."

She nodded and followed Emmett out of the house. I felt my heart clench in anxiety as I watched her go.

I watched the door anxiously, relieved when she returned. She'd been gone for only ten minutes, but it had felt like hours to me. Alice flitted next to Bella the second she stepped back inside the drawing room.

"Well?" asked Alice, almost sizzling with anticipation.

Bella sighed and dropped, gracelessly, into the nearest armchair. She was clearly exhausted.

"It's always the same, Alice, and you know it. He wants a second chance, but…" She was going to continue, but stopped short when she noticed my brooding look.

"Pray continue, Bella. I'd love to know what my dear brother wants," I interrupted, my tone needlessly harsh.

I heard Alice scoff at my side. "Edward, this is hardly helpful," she snapped, but Bella threw her an awkward glance. "Alice, please. Let's just drop this."

"No, Bella. We won't drop this. What does Emmett want?" I spat, angrily.

She rose to her feet and walked towards where I was sitting. Her expression was unreadable.

"I told him that it would take a lot more for him to be admitted into this house again. If you will excuse me, I will retire for the night."

"Bella, can I…?" began Alice, her voice trailing off in the wake of Bella's sudden coldness.

"Not tonight, Alice, please," said Bella, pointedly avoiding my gaze.

When Bella left the room, Alice stood up to leave as well, an irritated frown marring her features.

"When will you stop doubting her, Edward?"

The following morning, as we all sought to resume some semblance of routine, a sharp rap on the front door was heard.

Jenks, ever attentive to his duties, opened it to reveal a tall, blond stranger. Dressed in the height of London fashion, our visitor was obviously no country bumpkin.

Jenks ushered him in, as the gentleman introduced himself.

"I'm Lord Jasper Whitlock. I'm here to see my cousin, Miss Isabella Swan. Will you please inform her that I have arrived?"

Hovering on the landing, intent to observe him without being noticed, I failed to hear footsteps on approaching behind me until it was too late to withdraw. Bella's voice resonating over my shoulder startled me out of my scrutiny of Lord Whitlock.

"Jasper, is that really you?" she exclaimed, her voice happily surprised.

Who was this man, and what did he want with my Bella?

Bella rushed to the door to welcome him and he enveloped her in a tight, affectionate embrace.

"Are you alright, little one?" he crooned, his hands protectively caressing her shoulders.

She nodded, an open and bright smile gracing her lips. "I…I…I…am monstrous glad to see you, Jasper, but why? How?"

"Did you think I would leave you to fend for yourself at such a time?" he replied, straight away, his eyes alighted on my hovering figure.

Bella saw me and hastened to make the appropriate introductions.

"Jasper, this is Mister Edward Cullen. He is Carlisle's son and heir. Mister Cullen, this is my cousin Lord Jasper Whitlock."

Lord Whitlock acknowledged me with a gentlemanly nod and returned his undivided attention to Bella. I attempted to dismiss the fact that Bella had addressed me formally in front of his Lordship.

"Little one, I wish to have a word with you. Will you take a turn with me outside?"

"Of course, Jasper. Let me fetch my shawl and I will show you the gardens out back," she replied, ushering him outside.

Just like that, I let her walk away from me, with her Lordship of a cousin.

They reappeared more than two hours later, and Bella politely asked my permission for Jasper to stay for a couple of days before he returned to London. Grudgingly, I granted her wish. This was, of course, her house as much as my own, if she wanted it to be.

But what about me – did I want her to stay?

Two days later, she approached me in the library.

She looked solemn and detached, her eyes full of emotion and her features lined with pain. It was apparent that this was not going to be an easy conversation, and I was hesitant to be the one to start it.

"Jasper and I have talked a lot these last few days," she began.

"You seem to be very close," I replied, blankly.

"We grew up together as children," she explained.

When I offered no comment, she continued. "He wants me to return to London with him and live with his family."

Shock and anger froze me over. She was leaving Cornwall. Her Lordship of a cousin was snatching her away from me.

Not her.

Not now.

I couldn't lose her, too.

"How so?"

"He feels it would be more proper for me to…live in a different household."

So this was Lord Whitlock's incontrovertible argument – propriety. Hang it all! I'd show him propriety.

Sullenly, I knew she accepted Jasper's reasoning, discounting her own opinions. Fear gripped me – what was she going to do? Was this what she truly wanted?

"I think…I think I should leave," she whispered.

My heart fell. I could not allow this, but knew, without a doubt, that I would never retain her by my side by haranguing her with the terms of Carlisle's will. It would be the foulest kind of blackmail and I didn't want her to stay here solely out of duty towards my parents' wishes.

But…what sort of inducement had I given her up until now, that would convince her to stay?

Alice was right, my doubts and unpleasant disposition had been driving Bella away. She must surely despise me now, but I owed myself one last-ditch attempt to change her mind. I felt my resolve crumble inside me and, with it, the last of my carefully crafted walls.

I walked around the table to stand in front of her. I drunk in the sight of her – it might well be the last chance I had, before his Lordship took her away. I hoped that my regard could convey everything I was feeling in that moment.

As longing gripped my heart like a cruel vice, my hands flew to her shoulders. She raised her head to meet my gaze.

"Is this really what you want?" I asked, anxious to know whether she agreed with her cousin.

She frowned, her eyes were revealing so much more than propriety would allow her to speak aloud.

"I'll leave with Jasper. I won't inconvenience you any longer."

So this was what she thought? My brilliant plan to keep her safe from the conflicting emotions that raged inside of me had merely resulted in her believing I thought her an inconvenience.

With a faint flicker of hope, though, I reasoned that not everything was lost – she'd never have gone to such lengths to protect me and mine if she didn't harbour deep feelings for my family, myself included.

Did I dare hope? I had to.

With sudden faith, I poured all of my confused, all-consuming feelings into a piercing gaze that sought her eyes. I gentled my hands on her and steeled myself to repeat my question.

"Is this really what you want?"

She shook her head, a traitor tear lining her face, but her words contradicted her vehement actions.

"I…I…this is no longer home to me…"

I wouldn't allow this. Propriety be damned.

I removed my hands from her shoulders to grasp her dainty hands in mine, intertwining my fingers with hers and pulled her to my chest. Hope branded my heart like a wild fire when she did not flinch or pull away from me.

A heated blush – _my blush_, I thought possessively – crept across her porcelain skin. I snatched upon this moment like a hawk on his prey.

"No. You won't go with Jasper. You will stay here."

"Edward?" she sighed, still doubtful.

There would soon be no doubt in her voice.

"You won't leave my side ever again. I can't imagine a life without you."

Her eyes widened, not in shock, but in silent acknowledgement of all I had just admitted. Her expressive eyes lit up with a joyful glint and a loving smile graced her features. She was glorious.

"Yes, Edward. I will stay."

I was home, at last.


	2. Chapter 2

Rating/ Disclaimer: Rated M just to err on the safe side. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: 1840. Edward Cullen has been living in Jamaica for years, managing his family's estate. Sudden news of his father's ailing health prompt his journey back to England. Can he still call Cullen Manor home? A long road home in more ways than one.

Now no longer a one-shot. Here is the continuation of MoorWard's story.

My heartfelt thanks to my wonderful beta team, who've cleaned up my mess time and time again: busymommy and AstonMartinVanquish. More thanks and appreciation to Udo Blick, my resident historical consultant. Love and thanks for their insights to the MoorWard squad: Eifeltwr, Unimaginative Olena, bmor, Butterfly Betty, Six DlbFive and IplayDoctor WithCarlisle - who also gets major kudos and unswerving devotion for getting me a copy of VF signed by the Pattz himself at the WFE Premiere.

Enough of my ramblings. Here it is...

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**CHAPTER TWO**

That moment of blissful recognition was, alas, short-lived. A firm and authoritative knock on the library door broke Bella's dainty hands away from my grasp, but not far enough for our stance to be considered appropriate. My own hands, however, only felt empty and cold from the loss of her touch.

Lord Whitlock's stern voice washed over me like a cold wave in the storming Cornwall sea, his words drawing Bella farther away from me.

"What in God's name is this?"

Lord Whitlock's cryptic gaze was focussed solely on me, a clear testament of his opinion on the situation. He had already construed the scene before his eyes, and nothing either Bella or I could say would change his mind.

"Jasper please, calm down," answered Bella, her voice level and detached in spite of the deep breath I had just heard her take. I turned to face Lord Whitlock in time to feel, rather than see, Bella's gown swish around the table as she moved to approach her cousin.

Lord Whitlock's countenance remained steadfastly unreadable. I mused that this was certainly not the way I would have chosen to announce Bella's decision to her cousin, and I immediately felt guilty for putting her in such an awkward position. Nevertheless, the quiet determination in her voice gave me hope.

"Like hell I will calm down! Isabella, be ready by morning. We are leaving after breakfast."

My fists clenched at my sides while Bella's gaze flitted imperceptibly towards me. Despite my instinct to antagonise Lord Whitlock, I acquiesced to the silent plea in her eyes. Wordlessly, though, I stepped closer to Bella to show my support. I'd speak with her cousin privately about the matter, one gentleman to another.

"We have already discussed this, Jasper. I am not changing my mind now. I never will."

Lord Whitlock frowned at Bella's resolute tone, but then, laying a comforting hand on Bella's forearm, his countenance softened. As he spoke, his cold, haughty stare held mine in an open challenge.

"So be it, Isabella, if that is your choice. I have my terms, though, and you will abide by them."

I was impatient to learn what his terms entailed, but for Bella's sake, I kept my tongue and my temper in check. There had to be a polite, civilised way to go about this without hurting Bella or her bond with her cousin.

Lost in my musings, I almost missed Bella's authoritative tone as she nodded and dismissed Lord Whitlock from our presence, adding that they would discuss his terms on the morrow.

With a stiff nod, he left without a word. When the door clicked shut behind him, Bella came back by my side. Anxiety took hold of me again, leaving me unable to speak. What did Lord Whitlock mean by '_terms_'? Wasn't Isabella an independent woman, free to come and go as she pleased?

"Edward?"

Her voice called me back to reality, and to her mesmerising eyes, now shyly trying to read my countenance. After Lord Whitlock's interruption, I couldn't help but look ashen, but this was the last time I would allow Isabella to fight one of my battles.

"Edward, please…" she said again, no doubt attempting to elicit a reaction from me. I would brave this storm and show her the support and protection she deserved, all the more because of the choice she had just made.

"I want to be there, too," I managed to reply, in a strangled breath.

"I can handle my cousin alone, Edward, and it would probably be best if I did," she countered, her voice steadier and unwavering.

"I know perfectly well that you can handle him, but I want to be there for you," I finally admitted, my gaze never leaving her face, while my heart still raced and my mind committed to memory every detail of her features. Trapped within my insistent, even ungentlemanly stare, Bella blushed. There was _my_ blush again, I thought, marvelling at my newly found possessiveness.

"I don't want Jasper to assume…to misunderstand…anything. I don't want him to… You are not obliged nor beholden to me…in any way…"

Her dejected tone as she stumbled through those reasonable but unwelcome words hurt me beyond belief. Of course there was no understanding between us, what was I thinking? I had to set things to rights, so that Lord Whitlock's possible concerns would be appeased and Bella's position would remain untainted by censure. I had to set things to rights; I could not bear that a blasted misunderstanding might undermine the foundations of my…acquaintance with Bella, as much I was resenting this definition.

"I am my father's heir and the master of this house, Isabella. It is by virtue of my father's testament that you will always have a home here. I want to be by your side and listen to Lord Whitlock's terms when he presents them."

Bella cast her eyes down before answering demurely, "As you wish, Edward."

When she left me alone in the library, I stood contemplating my prospects, and for the first time in months, years even, I felt a blossoming sense of anticipation for the future.

The next morning, while dressing for the day, I was struck by an unusual sight outside my window. A steed as black as night, his swift movements graceful despite his powerful frame, coursed the estate, an unknown rider upon its back. I opened my window and leaned on the stone sill, fully intent on getting a closer look at the bold horseman. Initially I believed it to be Lord Whitlock, but his tall frame did not match the rider's slight, agile physique. Dressed in breeches and a sark, his hair hidden under a riding beret, there was no question in my mind that the rider was a man.

Jenks entered my room without knocking, his arms full of clean clothes. His arrival put an end to my idle speculations.

"You not dressed yet, lad?" he asked, eyeing me sceptically from the doorway.

"I was just…I was…" I found myself incapable of providing a plausible answer.

"Daydreaming is usually a lassie's pastime, and what are you doing with your windows open? You'll catch your death of cold!" He protested, motioning me away to latch the window shut again. As he did, he turned to me and commented: "So I see, my lad. So I see."

Affronted by his assumptions, I replied testily, "Whatever do you mean, Jenks?"

He clacked his tongue, handing me a clean, freshly starched and ironed shirt that I donned immediately, while Jenks went about to straighten the clothes that I had haphazardly scattered on my bed.

"Has there been a storm in here, lad?" he finally asked, with a hint of humour in his voice.

"I couldn't pick anything that seemed…fitting. And then I…"

Jenks then did something unusual and sat down on the window ledge.

"Laddie, what's eating at you? Not even able to pick a pair of breeches and a suit? That's not like you."

"Jenks, in Jamaica I know what to do when I wake up every day. I ride through the plantation, in my work clothes, and I am covered in dust and sweat by high noon. I have no clue how to be master of this house. I have no clue how to be a gentleman of quality anymore."

Jenks nodded, rose from his perch on the window ledge and came to stand by my side, just as I sat there at the foot of my bed. He patted my shoulder and said, with an amused but pensive grin, "Manners maketh man, my lad, not a starched sark or a fashionable suit. You are your father's son, don't you ever forget that." I lifted my head to meet his gaze and murmured my heartfelt thanks.

"Laddie, would this sudden fear of yours have anything to do with someone's cousin?"

I exhaled uneasily, thinking that Jenks had hit the nail right on the head. There was no escaping his inquisitive and incredibly perceptive questioning.

I eyed him warily, thinking that the old man was way too observant for his own good. He was also outspoken and impertinent, but I could never dismiss him on that account. First, he was as good as family; secondly, my parents would haunt my nightmares if I ever did. There was no lying to Jenks, and, I really needed an unfettered opinion on the matter.

"He is threatening to take her back with him, Jenks. To Somerset, or wherever it is that he has his estate."

Jenks crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at me. "And you think that Miss Bella will go quietly? I am disappointed, laddie."

I raised my hands in surrender and shrugged, truly defeated and at a loss for words. "What I think matters very little, Jenks. It's what Bella thinks, and what he wants."

"Laddie, I will only say this once. Miss Bella is not the sort of person you can herd around like cattle. That lassie has an iron will, let me tell you."

Jenks's last words gave me hope that Bella would not go back on her word, even if we still had to contend with Lord Whitlock's mysterious terms. Then a thought hit me in passing, just as Jenks was leaving the room.

"Jenks, why was a stable boy exercising one of the steeds?"

I thought I heard him snicker. "Stable lad?"

"Don't look at me like I've grown a second head, man! There was a stable boy riding a black steed when you came in earlier."

He snickered again, completely revelling in my discomfort. "That'd be Miss Bella, laddie."

My eyebrows knit together and my temper inexplicably rose to its boiling point. "But he was in breeches and a sark! It cannot possibly be Isabella!" I snapped at a very amused Jenks.

"Last time I checked, laddie, the only black steed at Cullen Manor was Dark Fire. That's Miss Bella's horse and trust me, no one else has the gall to ride that devil but herself." And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving me to nurse my sudden shock.

What was Bella thinking, riding that stallion in men's clothes? Jenks said the horse was a devil. What if it wasn't safe for her to ride it? What had possessed my father to bequeath her such a beast, so that she could indulge in her reckless behaviour?

I had to stop her from doing that. She could ride all she wanted, but in proper attire and with a safe, appropriate, ladylike side-saddle.

I went back to the window and saw Dark Fire approach the stables at an easy canter. Bella, of course, was still riding her mount, her hair now flowing over her shoulders, free from the confines of her beret.

My temper was still quite shaken, but my shock and anger vanished when my eyes landed on her face as she dismounted her horse. Her cheeks were flushed from the exercise, her hair cascaded in a disorderly, tangled web on her left shoulder, and her features lit up in a glorious smile. I realised that I had yet to see her this happy and carefree since making her acquaintance.

My heart leapt on seeing her like this, but all thoughts of her smile were annihilated in one long, painful second. Seeing her in men's clothes stirred something that had lain dormant in me until that moment. The clothes were not clinging to her form and yet, they were more revealing than anything she had ever worn in my presence. I could truly see the shape of her figure as my treacherous eyes ran the path along her arms and shoulders, along her waist and her legs, down to her boot-clad feet.

Startled and appalled by the strength of my response to the sight of Bella in breeches, I had to walk away from the window. My wanton desires, though, would not leave me, as I pictured her in my mind's eye, her braids undone on her shoulders, my hands waving a trail of fire through them. Gone were the sark and breeches, Bella was clad only in a flowing nightgown, its laces undone, her white collarbones showing, and desperately luring me in.

"Goddammit all to hell and back!" I cursed, horrified with myself, but excited nonetheless by the thoughts and images plaguing my mind. What tormented me most of all, was that Bella seemed to make a habit of this reckless behaviour and of this unconventional attire. If this first reaction of mine was any indication, I could venture to imagine that this woman was, unwittingly, well on the way to wreak havoc with my sanity for the months to come.

My mind still preoccupied with Bella and the sight of her unseemly riding attire, I decided on the dark green suit that Jenks had left on the bed for me. Taking a deep, calming breath, I left my room to join the rest of the household for breakfast.

I remotely harboured the hope of crossing paths with Bella on my way downstairs, believing she would be delayed to make herself presentable after her morning exercise, but I descended the grand staircase alone and in complete silence.

Out of old habit, I walked to the back of the house and into the kitchen, where I was met by a very puzzled Jenks. "What do you want in here, laddie?"

I merely straightened the cuffs of my suit before replying to the old butler in kind. "Good morning to you, too, Jenks. I wondered if I could get some breakfast, perhaps?"

Jenks shook his head and ushered me out of the kitchen with gestures that were nothing short of a shove. I suddenly longed for Augustus's calm and detached demeanour, wondering how he would react to my being manhandled by my own butler.

"Breakfast is served in the dining room, sir, when we have company. Have you forgotten your manners altogether in the West Indies?"

Understanding dawned on me and, for the second time since I had woken up that morning, I felt out of place and inadequate to the situation. I steeled myself and headed to the dining room, before Jenks could literally have me transported down there. I paused for a minute at the door, hit by two errant thoughts simultaneously.

First, it occurred to me that it was not really like me to second-guess myself as much as this. I was used to behaving and being treated like a master. In Jamaica, I would never have dreamed of breakfasting in my kitchen like a servant. I would have taken my usual seat on the deck, where Augustus would have waited on me hand and foot.

The odd feeling of being back home in Cornwall had sent my sense of perspective topsy-turvy. I was back to behaving like the young man who had left home five years prior, not the new head of the family and master of the house. I must not forget my station so easily if I wanted any chance of withstanding Lord Whitlock's arguments against Bella's decision to remain at Cullen Manor.

Second, I was startled by the noises filtering from the dining room into the hall. A cheerful murmur, like an undercurrent of softly spoken words was interspersed with a more open, wind-chime, higher-pitched laugh and a deeper one, from a certainly more controlled, but nonetheless diverted, voice.

The narrator was, no doubt, Bella herself. It was unsettling that I could already differentiate her voice and laugh amongst the hushed chatter of three people from behind closed doors. I smiled to myself, wondering about the subject of her breakfast tales, that had gone so far as to elicit such a joyful reaction from Alice, who had been in an unnatural silent haze for days, and from Lord Whitlock, who seemed to be capable, on occasion, of losing his serious outer shell in the face of his cousin's charms. The three of them – Lord Whitlock, Alice and Bella – were having a peaceful breakfast and were talking and…laughing together.

I placed my hand on the brass doorknob and, without further procrastination, turned it and opened the door. I didn't need to knock. It was my house. It was my dining room.

My appearance was instantly met with silence. I had successfully broken the one cheerful moment that anyone had had in this household since my mother's wake.

Alice quickly rescued me from the awkward moment. Rising from her seat, she paced to my side and bade me good morning with a sisterly peck on my cheek. I embraced her and kissed her forehead. I had missed my little sister cruelly while I was in Jamaica and was saddened that we had been reunited only by the family tragedies. I had sorely neglected her since my mother's passing. It was high time I mended my ways and carved some time for my sister out of my daily routine.

"Good morning, sister."

"Good morning, Edward," she replied, smiling. I took my seat at the head of the table, with Bella on my left and Alice to my right. Quite naturally, Lord Whitlock was seated beside Bella.

"Good morning, Isabella," I finally said, my eyes lingering on her figure. She'd changed into more appropriate attire, but the dark green silk of her dress did not make her any less appealing to me.

She answered in a hushed whisper, as if sharing some long-kept secret, whilst merely wishing me a good day. Then, and only then, I acknowledged Lord Whitlock's presence, nodding wordlessly in his direction.

"How nice," said Alice, her playful gaze alternating between Bella and myself. I had no idea what she was referring to.

"What do you mean, Alice?" Bella asked with her usual forthright manner. There was no hiding from Bella, even if young Alice was not one to beat about the bush, either.

"You and Edward match, Bella. You are both dressed in green." Of course Alice would notice and comment on something so inconsequential as the colour of one's attire. Nonetheless, I could not help but acknowledge how well this particular shade of emerald green silk complimented Bella's features, and I felt considerably pleased with myself, too, for picking the same colour this morning. I thought, however, that I had overheard a faint huff from Lord Whitlock's corner of the table, and I judged it wiser to divert the conversation from the unsafe topic of Bella's wardrobe.

"I apologise for interrupting your conversation," I said, a steaming cup of tea appearing at my elbow. A glance to my left confirmed that Bella was still filling the role of the good host and was serving me my breakfast.

I suddenly wished we could forgo the company and share our meals alone. I wondered how that would be, and how that would change and shape her behaviour around me. I wondered how much her continued nearness would affect me. So many things would be different and maybe, just maybe, if Lord Whitlock was amenable, in the future they could.

"You did not interrupt anything, Edward, I assure you. We were simply entertaining Lord Whitlock with anecdotes about our dearest butler," Alice chimed in again.

"Oh, really, such as?" I asked, trying to sound uninterested.

"Well, it appears that his manners are not quite up to Holland Park standards…" replied Bella, with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Of course not, Isabella. I can't fathom whyever you would allow a servant…" interrupted Lord Whitlock, visibly incensed. I sensed a good story there, and I silently prayed that someone would enlighten me. As if she had heard my silent plea, Bella spoke up next, dismissing her cousin's argument completely.

"Hush, Jasper. First, it is not your place to argue that or dictate rules. Second, I told you twice already that he is like family. No one considers him just the butler. It would be nonsensical around here. This isn't Holland Park, cousin, and I am daily thankful for that."

Bella's heartfelt and authoritative defence of Jenks impressed me. The old man adored her and the feeling was clearly mutual. Isabella had taken the trouble of outwitting her lordship of a cousin in favour of Jenks. I decided it was time to participate actively in this conversation.

"You had any trouble with the old man yet, Lord Whitlock?"

Lord Whitlock looked embarrassed while Bella and Alice glanced at each other with barely contained smiles. I thought I might have actually struck gold. Lord Whitlock cleared his throat and neatly placed his teacup back on the table before answering me. "Not particularly, Mr Cullen."

Bella smiled congenially at her cousin, while an uneasy scowl marred his otherwise controlled features. "That's not what I heard, your lordship."

Alice remained silent, watching Bella and her cousin interact with a mysterious glint in her eyes, only partially hidden from view over the golden rim of her teacup, while Bella seemed to be particularly intent on teasing her polite, composed cousin. Those goings-on captivated me, and allowed me a few minutes of respite from my inner turmoil. It reminded me of the easy-going, free banter I had shared with my own brother for years, before everything changed, before our choices drove us apart.

"Unorthodox, that's what I would call it, Little One." Those were the first of Lord Whitlock's words that I could really catch, in between glimpses of my own memories and thoughts. It appeared that I had missed part of the conversation, but they did not seem to mind my vacant behaviour.

"And he called you a conceited peacock, Jasper. I heard that," Bella retorted, with a diverted smile on her lips.

While Bella's expression bewitched me, her words worried me. If this was the case, Jenks had been truly rude and, regardless of our almost familial bond, I would have to remind him of his station, at least until Lord Whitlock remained a guest at Cullen Manor.

"I hope you did not condone that sort of behaviour on Jenks's part, Isabella," I commented, trying to convey some authority in my voice.

"Of course I didn't, Edward," she replied, her tone unreadable.

I heard Lord Whitlock hiss in annoyance at her side and throw his napkin on the table. "I will not tolerate this, Isabella," he snapped at her, his face livid.

"Why, Jasper? Because you don't make the rules here? Because I've made a good life of my own and you have no part in it?" she ended, her face sad, her voice forlorn.

"I beg your pardon, Edward, and you, also, Alice... This is hardly appropriate conversation for the dining room," she added, sounding chastised.

"There is no need for apologies, Bella. We are all still overwhelmed by everything. I wish we could forget that, but we cannot."

I was startled by the depth of Alice's words. Her accurate assessment of the situation demonstrated maturity far beyond that of the frivolous young girl I had left behind years before.

"All the same, Miss Alice, all the same. I do believe I owe you both my apologies, as does Isabella," said Lord Whitlock, gravely. While addressing Alice, his mystifying grey eyes never wandered far from me, giving the impression that my every word and gesture were being measured and analysed against his own meticulous standards, and I'd been found wanting.

"Nonsense, Lord Whitlock. This is Bella's home, she need not mince her words with us. We understand her perfectly, don't we, Edward?" Alice countered, forcibly involving me in the debate. With a strained smile, my own steady gaze levelled on Whitlock, I answered, "You are quite right, sister."

Whitlock had the decency to reply with a mere nod, standing to leave the breakfast table. "If you will excuse me, Mr Cullen. I have some pressing matters that need attending to."

"I believe we also have one mutual item of business that we need to address, Lord Whitlock. Shall we take that into the library presently?" I asked, my voice resolute and detached. This was the moment of truth.

Alice stood and walked around the table to my side. "I suppose this means that the younger child is confined back to the nursery for the remainder of the day," she said, lightly brushing my shoulder in passing.

"Alice…please…" Bella retorted, but Alice merely shrugged before leaving the room, Lord Whitlock quickly following in her footsteps.

Once again alone with Bella, I thought to make the most of my time with her, until she folded her napkin and stood to leave.

"Bella?"

"Yes, Edward?" she whispered, her hand already on the doorknob.

I took a deep breath and, without consciously knowing how or why, I found myself standing behind Bella, closer than propriety would allow. My hands flew to the mahogany panels of the door on either side of Bella's head, preventing her hasty retreat from the dining room. Though her breathing became shallow, she did not cower from my nearness. Could it be possible she needed me too, with the same all-consuming passion that that I needed, craved her already?

"Edward?" she murmured, again.

"Please, Isabella. You have to tell me now. Please be honest with me, do not toy with my expectations."

"What do you want me to say, Edward?"

I frowned at her ambiguous turn of phrase. My Isabella certainly did have a way with words.

"Please tell me you are not going back on your word, Bella, regardless of your cousin's stipulations. Please." I begged her, unable to imagine my life here without her. I'd rather sail back to Jamaica on the spot, eager for the sea-sickness, the sweltering heat and the unrelenting mosquitoes to drain all memories of her from me.

Long moments elapsed in painful silence before she turned her head imperceptibly to my right, so that I could get a glimpse of her while she spoke.

"I always keep my word, Edward, whatever the cost."

And, for the second time in as many days, she walked away. At that moment, I swore to myself that I would go to the ends of the earth and back for her, to ensure she'd never walk away again.

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Chapter Three is already with the beta's. Meanwhile, due to major public outcry, I am working on the next chapter of BCG. Yes, CluelessWard will be back.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: MoorWard is back. Maybe inspired by the Bel Ami trailer? Heck, yes.

Huge, huge thanks to the MoorWard team, aka Busymommy, AstonMartinVanquish, memphis1 and unimaginative olena. You ladies ROCK.

No other ramblings this time, on with the show...

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**CHAPTER THREE**

I took a few deep breaths to steady myself before I had to walk into the library and confront both Lord Whitlock and his enchanting cousin. I straightened my suit jacket, the perfectly starched cuffs of my shirt, I squared my shoulders and turned the door handle, making my way down the hall.

A few minutes later, I was somewhat surprised to find only the former waiting for me. His Lordship had made himself at home, ensconced in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. My features schooled back to carefully crafted indifference, I sat down at my usual place – my father's desk.

"I assumed your cousin would be joining us for this conversation, Lord Whitlock?" I asked, both to maintain some semblance of polite conversation, and because I ached to know where Bella was, even though I wasn't prepared to uncover my moves to my opponent – yet.

"She mentioned she had to discuss some housekeeping issues with your butler, before she could join us." I nodded, but before I could reply, Lord Whitlock continued, "I see she takes her duties here very seriously," he added, with a hint of annoyance in his voice that I could neither dismiss nor misconstrue.

"I don't think I am quite partial to the implications of your reasoning, Lord Whitlock. I would appreciate it, for Miss Bella's sake, if you could be entirely honest with me."

Addressing my blunt retort, Lord Whitlock's face contorted into an enigmatic grimace. "Mr Cullen, I must admit I am not pleased with the situation. It appears that my cousin's main reason for staying here is that this household sadly wants a mistress at the moment."

Growing nervous, I tapped my fingers on the dark, polished surface of my father's oaken desk. His Lordship was well on the way toward stretching my forbearance very thin, and I found myself wishing that Bella would appear momentarily. Her calming presence could prevent me from offering Lord Whitlock a rude and impetuous retort, to the utter detriment of our future prospects.

"I can assure you, Lord Whitlock, that you are under a grave misconception about Miss Bella's role in this household. Perhaps you will allow me to enlighten you."

Lord Whitlock leaned back in the armchair, smoothed his outfit with his elegant hands, and then perched his elbows on the armrests, tenting his fingers before him. "By all means, Mr Cullen. I would be delighted to hear your detailed views on the matter. Of course, you've just met her yourself, isn't that correct?" he asked, his voice laced with haughtiness.

His Lordship's strategy became clear. He meant to belittle Bella's importance and her place at Cullen Manor to the extent that she would be portrayed solely as a dignified servant, thus placing her much beneath her station in life, or what Lord Whitlock perceived to be her station by birthright. That would, in turn, fully justify him in removing her from my household, on the grounds that he would be acting in her best interest. I couldn't have that. I had to prevent him from snatching Bella away from me, but it wouldn't be wise to antagonise him openly, neither now nor once Bella joined us.

"I will not contest this, Lord Whitlock. There is some truth in what you say," I began, my voice poised and controlled despite my inner turmoil. "I have only known Miss Bella since I returned from the West Indies, but that doesn't imply that I am unaware of the highest regard my family has had for her for the last five years. She is well-loved and respected by everyone here; she is considered a true member of this family, too."

My statement had the ring of truth to it; I knew that Lord Whitlock wouldn't dare challenge it and call me a liar as a consequence. He nodded and waved his hand, giving me leave to proceed.

"Besides, Lord Whitlock, I would be remiss in my filial duties if I did not abide by my parents' wishes. My mother, God rest her soul, loved Miss Bella like a daughter and wished that she would always have a home here at Cullen Manor. My own father even included her in his last will and testament to this specific purpose."

Those were my mother's wishes, but that didn't mean they couldn't mirror my own desires. I longed for Bella to have a home with me forever, just as my mother had dreamt, only in a different capacity.

Again, Lord Whitlock couldn't very well dispute my argument, because he would have to show blatant disregard for a lady's wishes – a lady who was, incidentally, my late mother.

Just as I was waiting for him to speak his mind, we both heard a short rap on the door and turned our heads to see Bella's figure appear in the doorway.

"May I come in?" she asked, almost hesitating. "I am not interrupting you, am I?"

"Of course not, Miss Bella. We were just waiting for you," I answered, feeling a real smile on my face for the first time in days. Bella reciprocated with a shy smile of her own. I saw her take stock of the situation in the room, with a speculative glint in her eyes, her gaze alternating from me to her cousin, and then back to me.

"He's not being…difficult, is he?" she asked, lowering her voice, as if her words were meant for me alone. I waved her off, dismissing her concerns, but elated that she would be questioning her cousin's dealings with me for my sake.

She went to sit by her cousin in the other armchair near the fireplace and, while I regretted her being so far away from me, I reasoned that it was probably more appropriate for her to sit with him.

"I appreciate all that your family has done for Isabella all these years, and I will be grateful forever that your father and mother succeeded where my late aunt and uncle sadly failed, but Isabella is not friendless in the world. It is high time she lived up to the standards expected of her station."

There it was. Lord Whitlock's strategy was finally out in the open. He did mean, after all, to use Bella's wealth and position in society to force her to leave Cornwall. What neither of us could have expected, though, were Bella's next words.

"Station, station. Have you nothing else to say, Jasper?" she snapped at her cousin with a scathing hiss. Her face was ashen and her voice was strained and suddenly anxious.

"Isabella, please, have some respect. Mr Cullen doesn't need to witness this."

"And you don't need to imply that he is beneath me in any way. I won't have any of that. My guardianship was entrusted to Esme for a very good reason. You will do well to remember that."

Isabella and I were uncannily fighting her cousin with the same weapon – the moral burden of challenging the deathbed wishes of two ladies of quality, first Bella's mother, then my own. Lord Whitlock's features seemed to contort in a displeased grimace.

"Isabella, you can't throw away your prospects, your position in society, your connections…for what?" rebuked Lord Whitlock, without so much as a glance in my direction.

He had relinquished all pretence of gentlemanly behaviour and now blatantly ignored my presence, thus disclosing his deep-rooted belief that Cullen Manor was not good enough for Bella. In my mind, there was no question that he was also implying I was not good enough for Bella.

"And what about my reputation and my honour, Jasper?" she replied. I did not quite comprehend her meaning at first, and got tricked into thinking that this comment would actually work in her cousin's favour.

"If you cared about your reputation, Little One, you would have some natural and just concern about dwelling here, when you have a perfectly functional house to your own name in London. But no, the lady wishes to stay in the country," he retorted, thoroughly incensed.

I was beginning to question whether it was even appropriate for me to participate in this discussion. This was a family dispute and I was intruding. Lord Whitlock, who had hitherto come across like a very controlled fellow, was slowly relinquishing his courtly manners; his voice and features went a long way to prove that. I thought that maybe I could tone down the situation and help Bella.

"Lord Whitlock, I beg your pardon. If you don't feel comfortable discussing this in my presence, I will take my leave, for Miss Bella's sake, but…"

"Pray continue, Mr Cullen?"

"I believed we were to discuss your terms for letting Miss Bella stay at Cullen Manor, if she so wished?" I asked, trying to keep my voice firm, and almost failing. I realised one moment too late that I was ignoring Bella completely.

"She wishes to stay, and she is right here. Thank you, Mr Cullen, for reminding my cousin about the purpose of this discussion."

Bella's voice was resolute, her gaze fiery and determined. Lord Whitlock was now the one looking sullen and disappointed.

"My terms, Mr Cullen…my terms…Now that you are both forcing my hand," he began, but Bella wouldn't let him continue.

"Jasper, this isn't fair to anyone and you are well aware of it. I have given my word, I will abide by it. How could I live with myself if I didn't? Do you want me to be the sort of person whose word is worthless?"

Bella was, indeed, a most clever young lady. She had cornered her cousin right where she wanted him. There was no moral nor gentlemanly way for him to contradict her reasoning, he knew this very well. I almost took pity on him as he uttered his next words and his poised façade crumpled.

"Of course not, Isabella! Nonetheless, I am your legal guardian, I am your next of kin and we grew up together until…until we parted ways. You cannot expect me to let this go quietly, child!"

His measured voice and his cut-glass accent slipped into an agitated mumble with those words, so much that I was fairly sure they were meant for Bella alone, although the still silence of the library allowed for his deep voice to ring loud and clear to me.

One thing he had mentioned seemed particularly shocking to me. He was Bella's guardian? Had not my father been filling that position? Did she still need one? That meant she was not independent yet, and this would complicate everything.

"You are my guardian until my birthday, Jasper. It's hardly an eternity, it's just three months away. Are you going to stamp your feet like a child now? I did not see you caring this much for my upbringing during the last five years," Bella replied tersely, her eyes focused on him, her countenance otherwise unreadable.

I was increasingly feeling like an unwanted – and unwilling – onlooker in a family feud. I didn't want to be involved, only to be compelled to choose sides. While concocting a plan to extricate myself from this situation, an unbidden thought struck me. Now I understood.

This had been Bella's predicament for months, while Emmett had been wreaking havoc within the family only to achieve his own selfish wishes. She'd felt torn between conflicting loyalties – between her unwavering affection for my mother and her gratitude towards my father on one side, and Emmett quite possibly trying to convince her to support him on the other. I'd witnessed his obvious affection for her at my mother's wake and I'd spent more than a few hours pondering what sort of bond they shared, considering that Emmett seemed to respect her almost as religiously as he did my mother.

She'd been forced to take sides, too, and she'd stayed to try and repair the damage. She was still willing to stay and put what was left of my family back together. Her strength and determination never ceased to amaze me and, for her sake, I had to stay where I was, and at least act the part of the master of the house and show her the family's support. All the while, in a distant corner of my mind, I was lost in an imaginary calendar, counting the days separating me from Bella's birthday.

"Lord Whitlock, the terms of my father's will cannot and will not be contested. I will not allow this. Therefore, Miss Bella will always have a home at Cullen Manor, should she wish to stay. It is my understanding that she, indeed, wishes to stay. However, if you are her legal guardian, I do believe we need to discuss your terms, if you have any. I have no wish to intrude on any other family matters, but I will uphold my father's wishes, and see that Miss Bella's are granted, too, whatever they may be."

Bella's gaze never left mine while I uttered those words in a steady, authoritative voice. That was what Augustus called '_the massa's voice_' and I was glad I could muster that tone with Lord Whitlock, who looked increasingly less pleased with himself, the more I advanced with my reasoning.

"I would never challenge your authority as Miss Bella's guardian, but I believe you will appreciate that I have nothing but her best interests at heart."

That was the most polite and sedate thing I could say without compromising either Bella or myself. After all, I wasn't even sure we had an understanding. No words had been spoken between us.

"Naturally, Mr Cullen, naturally. My terms…"

"Yes, Jasper, your terms…" Bella was steadfastly provoking him, and he didn't like it one bit, if his annoyed muttering was any indication of his opinion.

"Isabella, please, I really wish you wouldn't stretch my patience any thinner, or I swear…"

Bella's eyes widened at the sound of her cousin's voice. He was no longer annoyed, he was livid, and my '_massa's voice_' paled in comparison to his icy, calculated but still incensed elocution. Bella demurely cast her eyes down and motioned for him to continue with a graceful wave of her hand.

"Mr Cullen, Isabella turns twenty-one next September. I will have no legal say in her choices after that, but I wish to set some ground rules for the months to come. After she comes of age, she will be free to choose where to take up residence, but before that, I would prefer her not to remain unchaperoned at Cullen Manor. Even though this has been her home since she lost her parents, she will no longer have appropriate company once your sister resumes her education in London."

There was indeed an abundance of wit in this room, and it appeared that Lord Whitlock was just now taking the lion's share. I could never, in all conscience, contest his reasoning, especially since I would never consent to such an arrangement for my own sister, were the roles to be reversed. He was also privy to a lot more information than I expected, because Alice was indeed due to return to London soon. Her school would not excuse her absence indefinitely.

"So what would your suggestion be, Jasper?"

Bella's voice now sounded subdued, all traces of her former reckless bravery toned down, as if she was reluctant to get to the heart of the matter. Her cousin's hand went to rest on hers, in a brotherly, protective gesture. She didn't flinch away from his touch, but seemed to avert her eyes from my gaze at the same time.

"I would very much like it if you would consider going back to Whitlock Hall with me, Isabella," he finally said, his voice almost wavering with genuine uncertainty for the first time. Bella did extricate her hand from his grasp at that point, and I knew this option wasn't obviously very palatable to her.

"My answer would be a resolute no, Jasper. You can't ask me to do this. I am not going back to Somerset." Bella's words rang with finality and suggested that her veto against Whitlock Hall might have nothing to do with the scenery.

Lord Whitlock sighed in mild exasperation.

"I knew you would not give in, but I had to try, Little One," he said affectionately.

"I trust you have a viable alternative, then."

Lord Whitlock's expression morphed into a sly satisfied smile. "I still think, despite your protestations, that you should partake of the benefits of the season in London, and you have a perfectly liveable house, in the right part of town, that's just sitting there gathering dust."

Bella's lips curled up in a disbelieving, reluctant smile. "The whole season, Jasper?" Lord Whitlock nodded. Bella continued, with a hint of irritation in her voice. "You want me to spend the next five months in Grosvenor Square, alone? How is that more appropriate than me staying here, Jasper?"

My eyes darted alternatively from Lord Whitlock to Bella, trying to figure out why her lordship of a cousin would be so eager to parade her through the London social circles. Then again, the realisation hit me. The season meant balls, dinner parties, exhibitions, theatre shows and concerts. It would be the ideal stage to show off Bella's beauty and her other accomplishments to a host of young men of quality, whose rank, fortune and position in life would make them perfect candidates for Bella's hand.

After luring her in with a wholly undesirable proposition, he knew Bella would go along with anything else he would suggest. He looked so disgustingly pleased with himself, because his plan was as clear as day now, to me at least. If he were to be successful, then Bella would not return to Cullen Manor at all, not ever, because she'd be engaged, or worse still, married by the time she became of age, thus forfeiting the terms of my father's will completely.

_Goddammit all to hell and back! _So that was what the conniving bastard was up to! He wanted to parade her like a brood mare at a livestock auction, so that the conceited coxcombs in town would fawn over her and fight for her attentions. Little did he know that I would fight for her, too.

"It would be just as prim and proper as it could be, Bella, because you are the owner of that house. You may elect to live there whenever and however you please. I would, of course, spend the season in London, too, so that I could offer you my company and support."

_And act as middleman to your underhand marriage negotiations? Over my dead body, Jasper Whitlock, with my compliments to the House of Lords. _Those were my murderous thoughts until Bella's retort filled me with dread for a long, excruciating moment.

"So be it, Jasper Aloysius Whitlock."

As she continued, though, his Lordship's pleased smile faded, while my former torment melted away as fast as snow in spring. "But I have one stipulation. I get a say in the company I will be keeping, too."

"Very well," conceded his Lordship with a confused expression.

"Fine. Edward and Alice are coming with us, then."

I was going to spend the next five months in London with my Bella.


	4. Chapter 4

New chapter.

The usual thanks to the MoorWard team - Unimaginative Olena, AstonMartin Vanquish, Busymommy and the resident historical advisor, Udo Blick.

A big, big thank you to the PLF girls.

More below...now, back to Cullen Manor.

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CHAPTER FOUR

Bella's decision to spend the forthcoming season in London set in motion a sequence of events over which I seemed to have no control whatsoever.

The next morning, when Bella first broke the news to Alice at the breakfast table, my sister could hardly contain her enthusiasm.

"Bella, this is wonderful news! We will have so much fun together! Think of the theatre, the balls, the dinner parties! There is so much we need to do before we leave. When are we leaving? We must walk into town later. So many errands to run, I'm sure I'll forget some…"

Alice prattled on, quite unaware that Bella had neither accepted nor rejected her proposal. Indeed, she looked patiently amused, her chocolate eyes crinkling with mirth over the rim of her teacup. I was tempted to cut Alice's ramblings short, though Bella hardly needed my assistance.

"Are you even listening to me, Bella?" protested Alice, a disappointed expression on her face.

"I am, Alice, believe me. I just don't think half of those vital errands you mentioned are so…vital to me."

Alice's brow creased and her lips pursed in a childish pout. She was mighty displeased with Bella's reaction to the upcoming London trip and its much needed careful preparations.

"But Bella…this is the season, the season in London, no less. You need to look your absolute best." Alice's voice was sincere, even though her words no doubt reeked of the advice she'd received herself at school. She was dutifully repeating her lessons in society. I surmised that Bella had not been subjected to that kind of tuition, or if she had, the subject hadn't found, in all likelihood, a very fertile ground. True to my suspicions, Bella remained unaffected by Alice's tirade and answered with a silent nod. With that, the conversation seemed to be over.

"I'm sure Miss Isabella will look beautiful even without the countless yards of finery you wish to inflict on her, Alice." I observed, patting Alice's hand to comfort her.

"But you'll accompany me on my shopping rounds, Bella? Please?"

Bella threw a sideways glance to Lord Whitlock, who'd been sipping his own tea in silence until that moment, and then replied to Alice, with one of her bright smiles, "Of course, Alice. Someone needs to make sure you do come home at the end of the day."

That was the last I really saw of either my sister or Bella for the best part of the following week. They were constantly in Falmouth, becoming the nightmare of every tailor, milliner, draper and seamstress alike. They left no stone unturned, no shop unattended, as if any of those tradesmen would take offense at being slighted by the absence of their highly valued custom. Indeed, Alice was the one to waltz back home burdened with countless parcels at the end of each day. Bella did keep her word and accompanied her, but never seemed to make any purchases for herself. Her lack of interest in those I assumed to be highly feminine pursuits left me wondering; even considering her peculiar disposition, she must be aware that her upbringing and her station in society required her to look the part in all ways possible. Besides, what girl could be so uninterested in her own looks, to the point that she didn't want to show off her new finery in London? Bella was truly an enigma to me sometimes.

Three days before we were set to leave, Lord Whitlock came to see me in the library while I was settling the estate accounts.

I had no particular troubles in that respect; while not large, my father's estate had been well managed and his abrupt passing hadn't impacted his affairs negatively. Day after day, the routine of Cornwall was replacing my former routine in Jamaica. I rode through the land, I visited the cottagers, I checked the pastures, I went over the accounts with the steward and I spent precious little time doing anything else. By the time Jenks ushered us in to dinner, I was exhausted. I barely kept up with scraps of conversation at dinner, but that was the extent of my involvement with my sister, Bella, and her obnoxious cousin who used to watch me like a hawk from his seat across the table.

Bella herself stole a glance or two my way every night at dinner, but she never engaged me in conversation first, mostly because Alice monopolised her time from dawn to sunset. All this while, Bella managed to attend to my sister and to her duties around the house without a single mishap. To the outsider I still felt I was to Cullen Manor, it was as if the house was capable of running itself. I knew better though, because such a well-oiled machine required hard work behind the scenes, and I never doubted for a second that Bella had eyes and ears everywhere in the guise of her ever-present, ever-faithful Jenks.

I looked up from my paperwork to meet Lord Whitlock's steady, unreadable gaze and gestured for him to take a seat. I wondered what the man could possibly want with me now. I was abiding by all his blasted terms.

"Lord Whitlock, how may I be of service to you? Is there anything particular you wished to discuss?"

He let out an uneasy sigh and tented his fingers, gathering his thoughts before speaking.

"I've come to ask a favour of you, Mr Cullen," he announced. His voice sounded subdued and uncertain. I abandoned my quill and my accounts and sat back in my chair, contemplating for a moment the magnitude of the scene before me. This man – his Lordship – was humbling himself in my eyes, asking a favour of the likes of me. The circumstances must be dire indeed, that he was forced to ask for my assistance. It was no mystery that he did not like me much to begin with. He tolerated me for Bella's sake, and because he was no doubt a born strategist who saw no potential good results from overtly contrasting me. Therefore, something important must have kicked him off his high horse. I decided to be the better man and let this go unnoticed, even if I allowed myself one instant to gloat, inwardly.

"I'd be more than happy to assist you, Lord Whitlock." He nodded, that wary expression never leaving his face.

"I received an express earlier this morning. I am urgently needed back in Somerset. In fact, I should be leaving within the hour if I wish to make the stagecoach in Truro. I would greatly appreciate if…"

The fog, so to speak, began lifting from my mind. He wouldn't be able to travel to London with us.

"You wish me to escort Miss Isabella to London?"

He blinked once, then understanding dawned on his face and he breathed a sigh of relief. "That would be…most considerate of you, Mr Cullen."

I waved dismissively at him. Of course, he wasn't imposing in any way, though his station and manners – and his being Bella's guardian, for the time being – required that he would formally entrust me with her care. Little did he know that there was no need to ask me; that was understood.

"Miss Isabella is akin to family to my dear sister and me, Lord Whitlock, the only semblance of family we have left. We take care of our own, Lord Whitlock. Never doubt that."

I knew I was probably saying too much, that my feelings were too apparent, my contained expression thus unable to keep them at bay behind my heartfelt words. I didn't care. I didn't want doubts and uncertainties in my way. I had already given my word that I would spend five months in London, at the mercy of those scandalmongering throngs of ladies and gentlemen of good breeding, the former of whom would envy my Bella bitterly, and the latter would try to pry her away from under my nose. Lord Whitlock was a man of the world. He had to guess the hidden meaning behind my words. He had to know that my intentions couldn't be but honourable.

"I would never venture to presume otherwise, Mr Cullen." He replied, rising from his seat to leave.

"Very well, then." I rose too, to lead him on his way. "Until next time, I believe, Lord Whitlock."

"I shall see you all in London, Mr Cullen. I must be on my way. Will you be sure to tell Isabella?"

He looked genuinely concerned. For a moment, I forgot that his Lordship was scheming to overthrow my possible hope of happiness and understood his anxiety. He was leaving a precious treasure behind, and that treasure would be in my hands until further notice. It felt petty and underhanded to gloat. Almost.

"I will tell her myself this instant. I believe she must be in the orchard at this time of day. Funnily enough, no shopping errands today."

At the oblique mention of my sister, his eyes lit up. Was that something I needed to watch more closely? Maybe there was nothing in it.

"Orchard? What could Isabella possibly be doing in the orchard?" He wondered aloud, shaking his head. He didn't wait for my reply, but touched his hat in salute and was gone. I figured that, by now, he had to be resigned to his fair cousin's peculiar antics.

I sighed. Bella was constantly outdoors; horse-riding, arranging flower beds in the garden and, much to my chagrin, pruning the fruit trees in the orchard, perched on a wooden ladder. There was always one of the boys or even Jenks helping her, but it still didn't sit well with me.

I made my way to the kitchen, where I found Jenks reprimanding one of the scullery maids. I left him to do his job and exited to the orchard by the back door. There she was.

I paused for a minute, my hands on my hips, enjoying the view from the house, still undisturbed. She was indeed at her favourite pastime and one of the boys, whose name I failed to remember, was helping her keep the ladder steady while she worked.

The late morning sun threw an irregular, but equally enchanting pattern of sunrays and shadows across her figure and I couldn't help but stand there, mesmerised by her mere presence. Her hair was, as usual, styled into an intricate style with braids and such at the nape of her neck, but a handful of wayward tendrils had escaped the otherwise disciplined net and hid her face from my view. I tempered the instinct to run towards her and instead I approached with a leisurely gait, strolling through the orchard.

The boy noticed me first, or maybe just heard my footfalls on the gravel path. "Good morning, sir."

I merely nodded my head to him in reply, but the damage was done. Bella had been alerted to my arrival and, quite predictably, turned her head in my direction.

"Good morning, Miss Bella." I greeted her first, and kept my address formal, for the sake of propriety.

"Good morning, Mr Cullen," she replied with a happy, unguarded smile, brandishing a pair of garden shears. She didn't seem intimidating or out of place. She looked perfectly at ease, as if she'd been doing this for years, and maybe she had. She reminded me of my mother who, likewise, spent hours on end in her garden and orchard.

In spite of her bewitching smile, I remembered I'd come here for a specific reason, and that I'd rather be without an audience for that conversation. Propriety be damned – we were out in the open, and in broad daylight. "Boy, you may go now. I'll help Miss Bella."

The boy looked flustered but nodded his head in silence and left the orchard in a hurry.

"You might have scared poor Jimmy out of his wits, Edward. What was that for?" Bella asked, once we were alone. I could detect the hint of humour in her voice. It was charming, and I felt a foreign kind of contentment bloom in my chest, just hearing her use my Christian name, and her voice so serene.

"Never mind the lad, now. I want to talk to you alone."

I moved closer to the ladder and took the boy's place, holding the ladder steadier into the ground. This contraption had been in the tool shed at Cullen Manor time out of mind. It was a miracle it hadn't yet fallen to pieces. I didn't like the thought of Bella using such a blasted piece of moulded wood. It could fall apart at any time.

"Oh. Is there anything the matter?"

I sighed. "Yes, you are the matter. Are you trying to make me go prematurely grey? First the horse riding, in breeches, no less, then you climb ladders that are not even fit to be used as firewood…"

I caught myself, for I was saying too much. She didn't need to know that I had been spying on her, watching her from my room. Still, she didn't comment on my slip, she just huffed and went about her business around the apple tree she was pruning, completely oblivious to my exasperation.

"Well, Miss Bella?"

"I've been using this ladder for years, Mr Cullen, and I'm happy to announce it never once caused me trouble. I see no reason why it should be a problem now." She was being deliberately short with me – my comment had no doubt provoked her. Just then, I remembered that her antics weren't my original reason for seeking her out.

"Lord Whitlock came to see me earlier." That elicited a reaction. She stopped working and descended the creaking pegs one by one until she was, once again, with her feet safely planted on the ground. To my utter delight, I realised that, because of my current stance, she was all but enveloped in my embrace. She turned to face me, a slight frown marring her features.

"Was he rude to you?" I shook my head, quickly dismissing her misplaced fears about her cousin's behaviour.

"No, Bella, on the contrary. He had to leave at once, though. He'd gotten an express…"

She nodded in understanding. The news didn't come as a surprise to her.

"He's headed back to Somerset, is he not? He's not coming to London, then." She titled her head to the side with that speculative look she had every time she was deep in thought, or trying to ferret out something out in her head.

"He'll be joining us later. He specifically asked me to escort you into town." Bella nodded again and her eyes darted around the orchard. I moved away from the ladder, freeing her from the enclosure of my arms. I didn't like the distance.

Bella put a hand to her forehead to ward off the offending sunlight from her eyes. I thought she would walk back towards the house, but then I saw her climb back on the ladder. I quickly followed suit, and resumed my stance behind her.

"You do know we have garden hands at Cullen Manor, I presume?" I asked while she deftly cut away at the tree branches with that shear of hers. The way she moved about her work was a clear sign that she was well accustomed to this chore.

"Yes, I am well aware of that." She was still displeased with me.

"And yet you choose to do this lowly work yourself? I wonder why you would subject yourself to this." I heard her sigh from her high perch on the ladder and regretted my words. I'd managed to sound haughty just like her lordship of a cousin.

"Edward?" I felt rather than heard her voice closer to me. I raised my head and found her contemplating me eye to eye. She'd descended a couple of rungs so that her gaze was now level with mine. This was the closest we'd been since that day in the library.

"Aye, Bella?"

"Would you please close your eyes, and listen?"

I looked at her, quite perplexed at her request. She understood my hesitation. "Humour me, please. Close your eyes and listen."

I did as she said. I felt her presence close to me. I felt the sunlight on my skin, less poignant and less cruel than Jamaica's sun, but warm and comforting all the same. I felt the breeze sweep in from the sea, with its unmistakable reek of salt and seaweed. I heard nothing, not one sound. Not even the seagulls keening down by the cove. There was only utter peace and silence in this corner of the orchard.

"What do you hear?" she finally asked when she thought I'd completed my survey.

"Nothing," I replied, still amazed at my own words.

"This is my peaceful place, Edward. This is why I come here, for respite."

I nodded, feeling chastised for my foolish assumptions. "I will not take this away from you, Bella. Just promise me you'll be careful. I wouldn't want you harmed."

She scoffed lightly, a smile on her face. "As if I could be harmed here…"

"All the same, Bella. Humour me, please."

She cast her eyes down and nodded. "I will, for your sake."

"Very well. Shall we return to the house?"

She nodded again and proceeded to descend the remaining rungs of the appalling contraption she insisted on calling a ladder. I took a few steps back to allow her to move freely. Just as she descended the very last rung and set back on the ground, she spun on her heel, and recoiled against the glaring sunlight. I saw her flinch for a moment, as if she was in pain. Then everything happened too fast for me to do anything.

One moment she was happily telling me of her peaceful place. The next she was collapsing on the gravel path like an empty sack. I hurried to her side, but couldn't do more than gather her up in my arms. I overcame all concerns of gentlemanly behaviour and ran my hands down her cheeks, smoothing her hair away from her face.

"Bella, Bella? What's wrong? Bella, please, talk to me…" Despite my efforts, she wouldn't reply or open her eyes. I presumed she'd lost consciousness. She'd fainted, not a yard away from me, not half an hour after her cousin had entrusted her to my care. A wretched beginning, indeed. I was anxious for her well-being and knew that time was of the essence.

"Propriety be damned," I growled under my breath, picking Bella up in my arms and walking to the house as quickly and delicately as I could, lest she'd be injured. With a swift kick of my foot, I wrenched the kitchen door open, where a startled Jenks took in the scene before his disbelieving eyes.

"What happened to the child?" he bellowed, no doubt as anxious as I was.

"Get the doctor, Jenks! At once!" I thundered back, his question unanswered, as I made my way from the kitchen towards the upper floor. Bella needed to be settled down in her room.

"Where is Bella's room, Jenks?" I could hear the man still at my heels. He'd surely sent one of the lads to fetch Michael Newton. It was a shame the annoying boy had to be the only doctor in these parts. I didn't like his manners with Bella, I didn't like him at all.

"The Blue Room, lad. She sleeps in the Blue Room." Of course my mother would have given her the most lavish room in the house. Bella probably didn't care for it at all, but she'd abided by my mother's wishes nonetheless. I climbed the stairs, holding a still unconscious Bella in my arms, as closely and as securely as propriety would allow. I couldn't bear to think her ill. Not her. Not after my father and mother had been snatched away from me so cruelly.

Just as I laid Bella on the bed, Alice and the chambermaid appeared out of nowhere. I heaved a laboured sigh. I knew that I would be thrown out now, and I'd be left to my solitary misery until the doctor's verdict would enlighten me about Bella's plight.

"Edward," Alice whispered, with a light touch to my elbow. "You must leave the room now. I will take care of her until Dr Newton arrives."

I knew very well I had no place in a lady's bedchamber, and I'd only been permitted to cross the threshold because of exceptional circumstances, yet I was reluctant to leave.

"You will tell me how she fares, Alice." That sounded ominously more like an order than a plea.

"Of course I will, Edward, but you'd best leave now. This is no place for you. Don't fret, brother. I am sure it is nothing serious," she added with a slight smile. Bella was unconscious and nothing was serious? I couldn't fathom how my sister would venture to say such a thing. Surely I was missing some fundamental mystery there. I quite detested being in the dark.

I retreated from the Blue Room and crossed paths with the Newton boy, who made a mad dash from the front door and up the stairs. Now, that showed dedication to his calling. He stopped cold in his tracks when he saw me.

"Mr Cullen, were you with Miss Isabella when it happened?"

"I was, Dr Newton. She fainted."

He nodded pensively and then added. "No prior warnings? Did she look tired?"

I closed my eyes for a spell and tried to recall Bella's demeanour in the orchard. "She'd been tending to the fruit trees in the orchard. Maybe the fierce sunlight…"

"Aye, that might be. I will see to her directly, Mr Cullen."

"Thank you, doctor."

A tedious, fidgety and uneasy hour followed. It seemed that the waiting would never end. I paced the library, unable to focus on anything other than the noises coming from upstairs. I listened to every move, every sound and every hint that the doctor had finished examining my Bella and that I'd finally know what had happened to her. I was hoping they would let me see her. I wanted to see for myself that she was well. I wasn't contemplating any other possible scenario.

Jenks ventured inside the library after a while, levelling a stern look in my direction. I had nothing to say to him, I just wanted to see Bella, make sure that no harm had come to her.

"The child has been working herself into the ground, lad. There is no stopping her." Now that was interesting, although I already felt uncontrollable rage brewing beneath the surface.

"She is no servant, Jenks, why in bloody hell would she do that?" I spat through gritted teeth.

"You have met Miss Bella, lad, haven't you? Well, do you think there is a way of ordering her about? There isn't. And it's been a wretched time, is all. She's been a rock, but…it was wont to wear her down sooner or later."

"I swear I will take better care of her, Jenks. I swear." Jenks's gaze softened.

"You do that, lad. You do that." He patted my arm encouragingly, just as he used to do when I was but a boy, and left without another word.

Eventually, I heard Alice's voice talking in hushed tones to the Newton boy just outside the library door. I didn't wait to be summoned. I stormed out of the library and barged in on their conversation with the bloodshot eyes of a madman. No doubt I was a fearsome sight to behold.

"Well, doctor?" I asked through gritted teeth, beside myself with worry and not inclined in the least to waste civilities on the good doctor. Alice regarded me with a shocked expression in her eyes.

"She is sleeping now, Mr Cullen. She should…rest for a few more days. I will send my apprentice later with a prescription for Miss Isabella." He added, continuing his former discourse with Alice and averting his gaze from me.

After he bowed and took his leave, I hastily turned to Alice for real answers.

"What happened to Bella, Alice? Please?"

She sat down on the hall bench next to me and took my hand in hers, soothingly. My little sister was taking care of me.

"She just fainted, Edward. You saw that yourself. The doctor said it's nothing serious. She needs to rest." Alice sounded oddly evasive, her explanation vague and unsatisfactory. If possible, I felt even more anxious now.

I lowered an anguished gaze to regard my sister's kind face closely. Concern marred her features, just as no doubt it was marring mine, only she was too quick to avert her gaze from me. I felt a vice contorting around my chest, making it impossible for me to breathe freely. "Nothing serious? You all keep telling me the same thing, over and over again. Alice, are you being honest with me?"

I heard Alice sniff and suppress a sob. "I am, I assure you, Edward. I feel responsible, though. The doctor said she needs rest, that she's overtaxed her strength. I insisted on dragging her along with me for days on end. It's my fault."

On instinct, I embraced her. "Do not blame yourself, sister. It's not your fault."

"But I…"

"Shush, child. Now let me go see her."

"Edward, no…you cannot possibly…" she protested. "Edward, please. Let her rest, you heard the doctor. Besides, it's not…" Alice continued, but stilled when I threw a solemn glance her way and left her behind.

Rest. Was it a dignified word to conceal something more substantial? I pondered that, climbing the stairs two at a time, unable to rein in my eagerness to see Bella. I stopped just outside her room, my hand on the doorknob, when I saw Alice at my side again. She'd followed me, clearly intent on preventing me from entering Bella's room.

"Edward, please. Not now. Let her rest. And it's not proper for you to…"

"Enough, Alice. I won't be dictated to in my own house. Go back to your embroidery and let me see her." She sighed, clearly irritated with my reaction, but didn't dare reply and disappeared from my sight.

I knocked but heard no sounds coming from the other side of the door. I knocked again and, when I still got no reply, I opened the door with circumspection and peeked inside. Betty the maid sat beside Bella, watching over her, but turned her head towards the door and regarded me with a startled expression.

"Sir, Miss Bella…" she began, no doubt to reiterate the doctor's instructions to me once again. It might not be her fault that Alice had thrown those explanations in my face one time too many already, but that didn't make them one jot less irritating to my ears. I'd had enough of their petty concerns about what I was allowed and what I wasn't allowed to do in my own house.

"Never you mind, Betty. Leave us."

She bobbed a hasty curtsey and retreated from the room in silence. I was finally by Bella's side, unhindered and quite alone.

I sat down beside her, in the chair that had been just vacated by the maid. Bella lay in her bed, her long mahogany hair undone and spread on the cushions in dark, silky waves. I longed to run my fingers through those endless locks, but in an unexpected bout of wisdom, I kept my hands to myself. She was sleeping, her eyes fluttering beneath her eyelids in restless motions. She didn't look peaceful; she looked exhausted and unusually pale. Bella's natural complexion has the colour of flawless white alabaster, but right now she looked sallow, with dark, emaciated circles around her eyes. I wondered why I'd never noticed before that she had been overworking herself like this. Feeling guilty for my thoughtlessness, my breath caught in my throat. I closed my eyes and ran an unsteady hand through my hair and over my face. Then I heard her.

"What's wrong?" It was a hushed whisper amid rustling sheets. It seemed distant but there was no mistaking my Bella's voice. I couldn't help shaking my head at her in disbelief.

"Oh, Bella…." Relief washed over me.

"What's wrong?" she asked again, her voice sounding steadier.

"I saw you faint before my eyes, you're lying there pale as a sheet, your voice barely above a whisper, and you are asking _me_ that?" I countered, leaning in closer to her.

"It was nothing, Edward. There is no need to fret."

I felt my temper flare, bile utterly rising within me. Everyone was telling me not to fret, and the more they told me, the more it irritated me to no end. I heaved a deep, uneasy sigh, trying to rein in my temper. It wouldn't do to take my frustration out on Bella.

"You need to rest. I'd better leave."

Her hand came to cover mine. "Will you stay awhile? Please?"

I couldn't refuse her. "Only for a little while. The doctor was quite adamant that you need your rest. You've been working yourself into the ground, Bella. I won't have that again."

She protested, or tried to, and looked away from me. "I am serious, Isabella. I won't allow you to overtax your strength like this. I've been shamefully thoughtless thus far, but things are going to change from now on. It's just as well that we are going to London. You'll be relieved of your housekeeping duties here for a few months. I just…I just…"

I couldn't finish. I couldn't bear the thought that I'd been too selfish and blind to see that everything that had happened at Cullen Manor had taken a toll on Bella. She'd had to take the brunt of everything alone before I came back from Jamaica.

"Edward?" I heard her, even before I felt her hand grip mine tighter. I opened my eyes and found her staring at me.

"Yes, Isabella?" I thought I saw a faint blush on her cheeks at my use of her full name. I guess I was still mildly irritated with the situation and with her reckless behaviour. I knew she would fight me on this. I knew she wouldn't want to relinquish her duties.

"Don't tell Jasper that I fainted…please? For my sake?"

I couldn't restrain a frustrated groan. I was responsible for her in Lord Whitlock's absence. I knew very well he could blame me for Bella's bout of illness but, at the same time, I didn't want to act in such an underhanded way and keep him in the dark.

"Bella, I am duty-bound to tell your cousin. He is your guardian and he placed you under my responsibility."

"Edward, please. Jasper would keep me confined for weeks like a porcelain doll. I just fainted. I didn't break a leg or get the pox." She was enumerating those possibilities with an impatient and irritated frown, and her pert reaction alone reassured me that she was already on the mend.

"Heaven forbid! You are not to climb that ladder, or work in that orchard again."

"Fiddlesticks."

I couldn't resist a light snicker. There she was, lying in bed and arguing with me at the same time.

"You didn't just say that."

"I believe I did, Mr Cullen. What of it?"

"Well, I don't believe it was a very ladylike thing to say." She smiled, and my world turned brighter all of a sudden.

"Don't tell Alice, then. And don't tell Jasper I fainted."

I huffed, half-annoyed and half-defeated, because I knew I'd eventually give in to her pleas.

"Very well, but we're not leaving in three days as planned."

She tried to sit up in bed to protest, but I saw her wince. She could try and fight me with words all she wanted, but I wouldn't risk her health on the journey. A delay of a few days wouldn't even be noticed.

"No protests, Isabella. We will leave in a week, that should give you time to fully recover."

"But Jasper…"

"I will write to your cousin and tell him that I'm detained in Cornwall on business. He won't dare contest that."

She closed her eyes and stifled a yawn. "You are tired, Bella. Do get some rest. I will see you…"

To be honest, I didn't know when I'd see her next. I didn't think my sister would be lenient and allow me free access to Bella's room until she recovered. I saw Bella nod her head in reply, but she was already falling asleep.

I left the room in silence and went back to confine myself in the library. I busied myself with the estate accounts and unnecessarily checked them three times over, in vain hope that time would pass quicker, until it was time to get dressed for dinner. Why Alice insisted that we did change for dinner, even if it was just the two of us, was beyond me, but I'd learnt not to contradict the will of the Cullen women.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Alice didn't even risk talking to me, after I'd been so short with her in the afternoon. She retired to her room right afterwards, but I knew that she would check in on Bella on her way upstairs.

I retired early as well, but found that nothing could ease my nerves. Not the crisp night air that crept in from the open window, not the meaningless words I'd read over and over in my book without even taking in a single one, not the glass of whiskey I'd poured from my father's favourite bottle after dinner.

I paced my room, unable to settle down at any sort of occupation, let alone sleep. I shed my suit and tie; I undid my shirt cuffs, leaving them hanging off my arms. I sat at the end of my bed to take off my boots, but suddenly decided against it. There was indeed something that could calm me down and clear my mind enough to be able to turn in.

I left my room and, guided only by the candle in my hand, I descended the grand staircase in the utter darkness. The house was likewise silent, since everyone had now retired for the night.

The far end of the library opened to a smaller room that my mother had always referred to, with a taint of pretentiousness, as the music room. The appellation was due to the fact that the room contained, indeed, the one and only musical instrument of the house, a Broadwood grand pianoforte that my mother had brought with her to Cullen Manor on her marriage to my father. On this very Broadwood grand my siblings and I had toiled for years, under the careful and unflinching tutelage of my mother first, and a music master later, so that we would all learn to play the instrument that she loved so much. Alas, out of the three of us, I was the only one truly gifted with a decent ear for music and, when my mother finally accepted defeat and allowed Emmett and Alice to pursue interests that better suited their talents, the Broadwood became my refuge from the outside world.

It was with a heavy heart that I'd left it behind in Cornwall when I sailed to Jamaica. I could never deprive my mother of her own heirloom and besides, there was no practical way for an object of that size to be hauled on to a clipper and survive the passage to the West Indies unscathed.

I had missed my piano all those years and yet, I hadn't had one chance to play it again since my return. Now was as good a moment as any; I would choose something quiet, hoping that the sounds wouldn't be carried upstairs through the stillness of the night.

I was pleasantly surprised to find the piano neat and polished, and its pitch as perfect as ever. Clearly, someone had been taking good care of it in my absence. I wondered whether my mother would put Bella to that task, while I browsed our substantial collection of sheet music.

There, I found what I was looking for. There was one piece of music that suited both my mood and the dark silence of the night that wrapped around me like a silken black cocoon, and it was Beethoven's Sonata in C Sharp Minor.

I'd always loved this complex, layered and controversial sonata, maybe because it had taken me years to master playing it quite right. The solemn pace and the sombre keys of its first movement suited my dark mood to perfection, and I found that some of my anxious thoughts dissipated when I struck the first bars on my long-lost piano. Its funereal gravity reminded me of my own recent plight. I'd been pried away from my successful, but lonely life in Jamaica to go back to my beloved family only to find it torn apart by bitter disagreements and death.

Yet, amid all this suffering and confusion, a lone glimmer of hope and beauty had risen. I made my way through the scarce bars that made up the _Allegretto_, its deceptively cheery rhythm echoing through the empty and dark music room, and couldn't help thinking that it reminded me of Isabella herself. She'd braved this storm alone, with unwavering devotion and unflinching loyalty towards my family, only to be met with contradiction, loss and the bridles of social conventions.

And Isabella herself was my hope and my quandary. Agitated and conflicted as I was, I still felt overruled by my blossoming feelings for her; feelings that I wasn't at liberty to act upon, until her Lordship of a cousin would be satisfied that she could have the life she deserved at Cullen Manor, that she would have the world at her feet because I would pledge my life and all my endeavours solely to that end.

Bar after bar, one tantalising arch of melody after the other, I poured into the music all of my anxiety, my questions and that all-encompassing spectrum of possessiveness, tenderness, protection and desire that her mere presence elicited in me, until I was spent and the music died on my fingers in the darkest hour of the night.

Still lost in my head and my musings, I managed to hear a faint shuffling noise behind my back, like the gentle patter of feet on the hardwood floor. On instinct, I turned to see a white shape huddled in an armchair in the corner.

"Bella…?"

Started, she rose to her feet. "I didn't mean to frighten you, just…what are you doing down here?" I asked abruptly, thinking she'd catch her death of cold out here in her nightgown. I rose from the piano bench and moved closer to her.

"I came downstairs for a glass of milk and then heard the music. I was drawn to it, and found you playing and…well…"

She averted her gaze, clearly embarrassed. "I think I should go back to my room." She added, when she found her voice. I crouched beside her.

"Did you get that milk already, Bella?" She shook her head in denial and continued, "No, I…I just…I haven't heard anyone here play in a while. Esme loved this piece so much and…I just wanted to hear you play, please forgive my intrusion."

It was my turn to be embarrassed, because Bella's voice was unsteady and the faint moonlight from the window revealed unshed tears in her eyes. I wanted to comfort her and didn't want her to cry, at the same time. I boldly took her cold hands in mine.

"You didn't intrude, Bella. Please, don't ever…don't ever hide from me."

At my words, she met my gaze, a determined look in her eyes. A serene smile graced her features and the glow of the moon made her look radiant, in her almost otherworldly beauty. There was no more denying myself, I was smitten, and would do anything in my power to make her mine.

The realisation made me forget myself for a second, as I choked on my own words and could barely hear her reply: "Never, Edward."

On impulse, I grazed my lips on her knuckles, and repented the brief contact right away. How could I think one faint, chaste kiss could quench my thirst? I shook my head, trying to regain my composure before I addressed her again.

"Let's go find that glass of milk, shall we?" She nodded, without a word, but made no move to wring her hands free from my grasp.

"And then I will escort you back to your room."

A week later, Jenks was busy ordering the maids and stable boys about while they fussed around the carriage, hoisting trunks and sundries on its top. We were finally getting ready to leave for London. Alice's enthusiasm had no bounds and only Bella's patient and joyful remarks could keep her at bay.

Bella had recovered entirely from her fainting spell and, despite her protestations that she was well and could keep up her duties, I'd steadfastly forbidden her to fuss about the house and had entrusted all her chores to Jenks, who was more than glad to be overworked for the short space of a week, if that meant that his dear child could be pampered and indulged. That old man was all bark and no bite, and had a very soft spot for my Bella. I teased him about it one morning, but wasn't prepared to be stunned into silence by his reply.

"If I be going soft on the bairn, laddie, that's as well as can be. You be the one in trouble, laddie, as you can't keep yer hands to yeself, mind ye. The lass is a beauty, and no mistake. Now don't you go hurting her, or I'll have your hide raw. Are we clear?"

The harmonious chime of Bella's soft laughter peeled me away from my embarrassing memory. "Alice, please, stop fidgeting! We have a long journey ahead, it won't do you any good to be this agitated."

"I know, Bella…I know! But…London! Together! When did you say your cousin would join us?"

My sister's question piqued my curiosity. I kept my eyes trained on the carriage, but eagerly followed their conversation from a polite distance.

"Jasper said he would be in town in time for Lord Blackwood's ball, and he anticipated that we would all be invited. He also extended an invitation for a small dinner party at Holland Park as soon as we are in town." Bella patiently explained to an over-excited Alice. I couldn't miss a hint of blasé annoyance while Bella enumerated these high-class social engagements. It appeared that she cared very little for them. I was intrigued.

"Holland Park?" asked Alice. "Is it..?"

"Yes, Alice, it's my cousin's residence in London. Not very far from my own house, actually…but…definitely grander."

Bella sounded dismissive, just like she did every time she didn't want further inquiry into a matter. Jenks, who needed Bella for some last minute questions as to the household, interrupted the conversation. Alice came to stand by my side, with a mischievous smile on her lips.

"A ball, Edward, did you hear?"

"Yes, I heard perfectly well, sister." I could tell she was excited to be mixing with society at her young age, and it was high time she did, but I dreaded the prospect of warding unwanted rivals from Bella's side. I didn't trust my restraint.

"And it all sounds so grand…" she continued, more for her own benefit than mine.

Two days later, Alice's liveliness had been sorely curbed by the long journey to London. She'd become an annoying bundle of jostled skirts, sour looks and sharp repartees. Bella, on the other hand, had slept less than Alice but also whined nowhere near as much as she did. In fact, she didn't complain once. She'd just try to find a better stance on the coach bench, by moving the covers and cushions around, but wouldn't voice her discomfort or weariness once.

I knew we were approaching the city when the noises and smells from outside began drifting inside the coach. Bella dared a peek outside the window to get her bearings, while a sleeping Alice huddled into her side.

"Isn't she crowding you, Bella?"

"No, Edward, leave her be, she must be tired." I smiled. As usual, Bella was concerned with others' well-being before her own.

"And you are fresh as a rose, I gather?" I ventured to comment.

"That's not a thing you should say to a lady, Edward…" She countered, mirroring my own smile. I loved that we didn't stand on ceremony in our personal interactions. Soon this would be confined to strictly private conversation, and God knew how many of those I could manage to carve into her busy social schedule.

After a long drive through the meandering streets of town, the carriage came abruptly to a stop.

"I daresay we are here," announced Bella.

Alice, still sleepy, rubbed her hands over her eyes and stifled a yawn. "Are we?"

I dared, too, a peek outside the window, and my eyes were met with a most astonishing sight. A brownstone mansion with white marble pillars and tall, pristine windows towered over us. A parade of liveried servants and maids in perfectly pressed uniforms stood on the doorsteps and a prominent, grandmotherly figure with a white starched cap waited at the front door with a radiant smile. That had to be Bella's housekeeper. The girl had more servants in a house she didn't dwell in than I had in the whole of my estate in Jamaica.

"Yes, Alice. Welcome to Grosvenor Square."

So this was where Bella lived? At the very heart of town? Neck and neck with the pick of London?

I was going to have my work cut out for me.

* * *

Edward plays the Moonlight Sonata in the library. Except, it wasn't yet named Moonlight Sonata at the time, and he is a perfectionist who would of course remember its correct name. Listening to the three movements should enhance the experience. Here are links to my favorite version, as played by Daniel Barenboim:

First Movement: http : / www . youtube . com / watch?v = E10K73GvCKU&feature = youtu. be

Second Movement: http : / www . youtube . com / watch?v = zs0QAA0eItU&feature = youtu . be

Third Movement: http : / www . youtube . com / watch?v = YJeD8ckihN8&feature = youtu . be


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